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II 




Daniel Boone At.one in the Wilderness. 

— See page 259. 



OUR 



Western Border, 



ITS 



LIFE, FORAYS, SCOUTS, 

COMBATS,' MASSACRES, RED CHIEFS, 

ADVENTURES, CAPTIVITIES, PIONEER WOMEN, 

ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO; 



CONTAINING THE CREAM OF ALL THE RARE OLD BORDER CHRONICLES, 
(NOW LONG OUT OF PRINT AND ALMOST IMPOSSIBLE TO PROCURE,) TO- 
GETHER WITH A LARGE AMOUNT OF FRESH AND ORIGINAL MATTER DE- 
RIVED FROM AUTHENTIC SOURCES, THE WHOLE WORK EMBRACING 
STRANGE AND THRILLING NARRATIVES OF CAPTIVITIES, DARING 
DEEDS, DESPERATE CONFLICTS, EXCITING ADVENTURES, PER- 
SONAL PROWESS, AND AIMING, BY JUDICIOUS SELECTIONS, 
TO PRESENT THE FULLEST, MOST VARIED AND MOST 
RELIABLE PORTRAYAL OF BORDER STRUGGLE 
AND ADVENTURE YET PUBLISHED. 



' Tr-u/tli is Stranger tlian Fiction.' 



CAREFULLY WRITTEN AND COMPILED BY 

Charles McKnight, 

Author or "Old Fort Duquesne" and "Simon Girty. 1 



ILLUSTRATED BY THE VERY BEST ARTISTS. 



C. McCURDV &. GO. 

philadelphia, 

Cincinnati, Chicago and St. Louis. 

1875. 



F 



?f\ r l 



•|V\\<T 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1875, by 

chakles Mcknight, 

In the office of the Librarian of Congress, Washington, D. C. 



STEVENSON & FOSTER, 

PRINTERS, STEREOTYPERS AND BINDERS, 

PITTSBURGH, PA. 



TABLE OF CONTENTS. 



Chapter I. 

Introduction — Destruction of the Erie Tribe of Indians — Contrast Drawn 
between the French Canadian and the English Trader — Washington's First 
Visit to the Great West — He is hurled into the Allegheny and shot at by a Sav- 
age — Washington's First Campaign — The Surrender of Fort Necessity — Re- 
markable Adventures of Major Robert Stobo — His Escape from Quebec and 
Daring Exploits — He Captures two Ships with all on Board — Braddock's Expe- 
dition against Fort Duquesne — The Character of Braddock and his Army — The 
Disastrous Battle of Braddocks Fields — Sir Peter Halket's Death — Braddock's 
Eetreat and Death — Capture of Fort Duquesne — Colonel Grant's Defeat — 
Highland Rage — Strange Discovery by the young Sir Peter Halket of the 
Skeletons of Father and Brother — The Touching Story of Fanny Braddock — 
Remarkable Adventures of Colonel James Smith, Five Years a Captive among 
the Indians — Ducked in the River by three Squaws — Adopted into an Indian 
Tribe — Cunning of the Catawbas — Smith Lost in the Woods — Odd Ways of 
Hunting Bears, Foxes, Raccoons, &c. — Attempt to Run Down Horses — Scolded 
for Helping the Squaws — Habits of the Beaver — Smith Snowed Up and Lost — 
Singular Indian Customs — An Indian Drinking Frolic — Indian Deer Drive 
and Ring Hunt — Novel Fishing — Smith's Marriage — A Wilderness Hermit — ■ 
He takes a British Fort — Captain Jack, the "Wild Hunter of the Ju- 
niata" ...1-111 



Chapter II. 

The Conspiracy of Pontiac — First Mutterings of the Awful Storm — 
Pontiac's Subtlety — Machillimackinac Captured through a Game of Ball — The 
Trader Henry's Narrow Escapes from Death — Obstinate Defence of Presq' Isle 
Fort — Pontiac's Siege of Detroit — An Ojibwa Maid Reveals the Plot — Officers 
Captured — Anecdotes of Pontiac — A Thrilling Boat Scene — A Frightful 
Massacre — Capture of Forts — Fire Rafts — Old Major Campbell Killed — A 
Fierce Struggle at Bloody Run — A Dreadful Repulse — The Siege Abandoned 
— Death of the Mighty Pontiac — Guyasutha's Attack on Fort Pitt and Re- 
pulse — Ruse with a Stuffed Paddy — Bouquet Comes to the Rescue — His Des- 
perate Battle of Bushy Run — He Penetrates into the Heart of the Indian 
Country — Touching Scenes on the Delivery of the Captives — The Desperate 
Battle of Point Pleasant — General Andrew Lewis — The Battle Rages — The 
Savages Retreat — Atrocious Murder of Cornstalk and his Son — The Murder of 
the Great Chief, Bald Eagle— Sketch of Logan, the Famous Mingo Chief- 
Massacre of the Conestoga Indians 112-182 



iv Table of Contents. 



Chapter III. 

Life on the Border — Manners and Customs of Western Pioneers — The 
Titles to Lands and Hardships of Settlers — Hunting and Hunters of the Border 
— How Marriages were Conducted — Setting up Housekeeping — Strange Frolics 
— Pioneer Women and Their Duties — Tattling, Shirking and Thieving, and 
how Punished — Household Furniture and Customs — Indian Tracking and 
Fighting — Sports and Pastimes on the Border — Captivity of John McCullough 
and his Adventures among Savages — How he was Made Happy — An Indian 
Boy Shot and Killed and McCullough Suspected — Captive nearly Drowned — 
A Squaw Whipped for Abusing Him — Novel Punishment — McCullough Es- 
capes from his Own Father — Captivity and Escape of the Bard Family — Hor- 
rible Death of Daniel McManimy by Torture — Wanderings in Search of a 
Lost Wife — Origin of the Indian Term "Long-Knives" — John Harris, 
Founder of Harrisburg, Pa. — Dr. Benjamin Franklin as a Commander — Con- 
rade Weiser and the Onondaga Chief — Border Forts, Stations and Block- 
Houses — A 'Singular Will Case on the Border — Sir William Johnson, Baronet 
— " A Fine old Irish Gentleman, all of the Olden Time " — Peculiar Educa- 
tion of Sir William's two Daughters — He Marries the Famous Molly Brant — 
A Wild Indian Girl— A late Visit to Johnson Hall and Castle 183-252 



Chapter IV. 

Daniel Boone, Pioneer of Kentucky — Kentucky as it was in the Olden 
Time — Boone Captured for the First Time and Escapes — Alone in the Wilder- 
ness — He Moves his Family West and Loses a Son — Capture of his Daughter 
and the Calloway Girls — His Fight with two Savages and Capture — Siege of 
Boonesborough — Indian Stratagems Foiled — Defeat of Captain Estill — A Well- 
Fought Action — Simon Girty's Desperate Attack on Bryant's Station — Hero- 
ism of the Kentucky Women — Kunning a Bloody Gauntlet — Girty Chaffed 
byKeynolds — Disastrous Battle of the Blue Licks — Boone's Son Killed — Thrill- 
ing Incidents — Keynolds' Capture — Hugh McGary's Fierce Character and 
Defence—Boone's Last Days—Touching Scenes— Marks out his own Grave— Two 
New Anecdotes of Boone — Kentucky Sports — Boone Barking Squirrels — 
Driving the Nail and Snuffing the Candle by Eifle— General Simon Kenton 
alias Butler— Thinks he is a Murderer— Herds of Elk and Buffalo— Hend- 
ricks Burnt — Kenton's Fight — Kenton Passes Through a Series of 'Extraordi- 
nary Adventures — He Tries a Mazeppa Eide — Escape and Eecapture — Girty 
Intercedes and Saves his Friend— A Savage Axe Blow— Kenton meets Logan- 
Butler Changes his Name to Kenton— His Last Sorrowful Years— The Wetzel 
Family, Father and Five Sons— Lewis the Eight Arm of the Wheeling Border 
—Martin Wetzel Captured and Kills three Savages— John Wetzel on a Horse- 
Stealing Expedition and Captures an Obstinate Savage — Jacc/b Wetzel and 
Simon Kenton Attack a Camp— Lewis Wetzel and his Dare-Devil Adven- 
tures — He Slays Three Savages in a Eunning Fight— Shoots a Eed Gobbler 
and Attacks a Camp — Handcuffed by Harmar and Escapes — The Border Eises 
to his Eescue— Thrilling Adventure 253-343 



Table of Contents. 



Chapter V. 

The Zane Family who Settled Wheeling — Shooting Adventures — 
Major Samuel McColloch and his Famous Leap — Benjamin Logan and his 
Heroic Deeds — Perilous Journey after Powder — Bowman's Singular Behavior 
— Murder of Moluntha by the Pierce Hugh McGary — Another Account — A 
Spirited Lad and how he Became Famous — His Romantic Death — Adventures 
of Captain Johnny — A Desperate Indian Duel — Captain William Hardin, 
Pioneer of Kentucky — Captain Bland Ballard and his Adventures — Exciting 
Adventure of " Big Joe Logston " — Jack Wells' Dream and What Came of 
It — Major Bobert Benham and his Strange Adventure — McConnel's Capture 
and Signal Kevenge — Adventure of the Three Brothers McAfee — Bryant's 
and Hogan's Parties Assaulted by Indians — A Schoolmaster Attacked by a 
Wild Cat — David Morgan's Famous Combat with two Savages — Events from 
Dunmore's War to the Moravian Massacre — The Delaware Chiefs, Captains 
Pipe and White Eyes — The Tories, Girty, Elliott and McKee, Desert from 
Fort Pitt— Death of White Eyes— A Horrid Massacre 344-396 

Chapter VI. 

God's Mighty Work in the Wilderness — King Pomoacon Destroys the 
Moravian Towns and Carries the Inhabitants Captive — Frightful Massacre of 
Moravians at Gnadenhutten — The Converts told to Prepare for Death — 
Touching Scenes — Driven into two Slaughter Houses and Inhumanly Butch- 
ered — One Little Boy Saved — Slaughter Kenewed at Smoky Island — Full 
Sketch of Simon Girty, the "White Savage" — He Marries the Beautiful 
Kate Malott — Captain Samuel Brady, the Daring Partisan Leader — His First 
Bold Scout to the Upper Sandusky — A Conflict at " Brady's Bend " — His Ad- 
venture with Phouts — Saves Himself by a Shrewd Device — A Wholesale Kill 
— Curing a " Sick Gun " — A Line Shot and Three Savages " Bagged " — The 
Lone Hunter's Kevenge — A Dread Holocaust — Tracked hj a Dog — An Indian 
Captured — "Brady's Leap" over the Cuyahoga Biver — His Trial, Marriage 
and Death — Andy Poe's Famous Fight with Big Foot — Only Beli able Account 
yet Published — The Two make a Desperate Effort to Drown Each Other — 
Poe's Fight with a Young Bull — A Kevenge Thwarted — Colonel Crawford's 
Expedition against Sandusky — A Fight with General Daniel Morgan — Dis- 
astrous Djefeat and Ketreat, and Horrible Death by Torture — Dr. Knight's 
Escape — Slover's Capture and Mad Ride for Life — The Mysterious Major John 
Rose turns out to be a Russian Nobleman 397-476 



Chapter VII. 

General George Rogers Clark — His Heroic Deeds — Character of Border 
Warfare — Secret Advance on Kaskaskia — Singular Scenes — Big Gate Won 
Over — Chiefs Thrown into Irons — Extraordinary Scenes at a Council — Vin- 
cennes Betaken — In Great Peril — Strangest and Most Daring March on 
Record — Wading Through Deep Waters — Clark's Stratagems — Kentucky 



vi Table of Contents. 

Sharp Shooting — Major Hay Trembles — Curious Incident — Fort Surrenders — 
Clark's Disappointments and Death — "The "War Belt, a Legend of North 
Bend " — James Harrod, Pioneer Hunter and Indian Slayer — He Nurses a 
Wounded Indian— Combat and Escape of Peter Kennedy — Adventure of 
Boone, related by himself 477-515 

Chapter VIII. 

The Two Sieges op Fort Henry— Mason's and Ogle's Commands Cut to 
Pieces — Deplorable Ambuscade of Foreman's Party — Second Siege of Wheel- 
ing in 1782 — A Wooden Monster — Betty Zane's " Gunpowder Exploit " — The 
Northwestern Campaign — Expedition of General Harmar — Singular Adven- 
ture of Johonnet — Desperate Combat — Disastrous Defeat of General St. Clair — 
General Butler Killed — Prodigious Slaughter and Disgraceful Kout — The 
Banger's Bace for Life — Colonel Darke's Escape — Mad Anthony Wayne tries 
it and Wins— Battle of " Fallen Timbers "—Enemy Bouted— Captain Wells 
and Bobert McClellan, the Bangers, and their Thrilling Exploits — Singular 
Becovery of a Brother — Five Bangers Attack a Camp — McClellan Bescued by 
a Girl — More of McClellan 's Adventures — Alone in a Desert and Beduced to 
Starvation 516-570 



Chapter IX. 

A Series op Thrilling Events— Adventures of May, Johnston, Flinn 
and Skyles — A Successful Decoy and Boat Capture — Exciting Chase and Be- 
pulse — Johnston Bothered by a Cow — The Game of "Nosey " — Two Children 
saved by Messhawa — Flinn Tortured — Wonderful Escape of Skyles — Miss 
Fleming's Sad Plight — Bescued by The Crane — Adventures of Ward, Calvin 
and Kenton — Ward Finds a Lost Brother — Desperate Attack on Hubbell's 
Boat — An Obstinate Besistance — A Brave Boy — Savage Boat Attack and Ter- 
rible Combat — An Obstinate Defence and Barren Victory — A Fierce Conflict 
by three Kentuckians — Thomas Marshall and James Girty — Captain Ward 
and the Fat Dutchman — Exciting Narrative of Van Campen 571-609 



Chapter X. 

The Frightful Massacre oe Wyoming — Catharine Montour alias Queen 
Esther — Fierce Attack of Hammond and the Bennetts — Frances Slocum, the 
Lost Sister — Bevenge of Colonel John Moredock — Thrilling Adventure of Au- 
dubon, the Naturalist — Ogilvie's Contrary Adventure— Obstinate Combat of 
Higgins, the Banger — Colter's Famous Bace for Life — An Indian's Sagacity 
at Trailing — Bell's Conflict with three Savages — Western Emigration — Odd 
Scenes — Pack-Horses — Boating Life on the Western Waters — Mike Fink, the 
" Last of the Keelboatmen " — Game and " Deer Drives " of the Olden Time 

Captain Minter's Famous Bear Fight — How Muldrow Found his Next 

Neighbor — A Wild White Man and his Story — How Major Smith Becovered 
his Sweetheart— Jesse Hughes, the Mountain Hunter— Sad Death of Captain 



Table of Contents. vii 

Van Buskirk— Massacre of the Purdy Family — Massacre of the Tush Family 
— Massacre of Captain Thomas and Family — Attack upon Kirkwood's Cabin 
— A " Perfect Devil " Kills Seven Indians — Levi Morgan's Stratagem for Life 
— Piddled with Bullets and,, yet Escapes — A Handsome Squaw makes Love to 
Biggs — Cacasotte throws Fourteen Kobbers Overboard ' 610-683 

Chapter XI. 

Pioneer Women - — Their Trials and Heroism — Touching Narrative of 
Massy Harbison — Desperate Attack on Widow Scraggs' Cabins — Mrs. Merrill, 
the Terrible " Long-Knife " Squaw — Family of Mrs. Daviess Captured — A 
Eescue — Murder of the Two Misses Crow — Desperate Attack on the Cunning- 
ham's — Captivity and Wanderings of Mrs. Frances Scott — Eebecca Boone, and 
how Daniel Won Her—" Mad Ann Bailey," of West Virginia— The Beauti- 
ful and Dashing Louisa St. Clair — Mrs. Mason Kills One and • Frightens a 
Score — Escape of Hannah Dennis — Mrs. Clendenin — Mrs. Cunningham At- 
tacks Two Indians — Heroic Defence by the Two Widows Cook — "That's 
John's Gun " — A Widow Won at Last — Euth Sevier marries a Shawnee Chief 
—The "Isaac and Eebecca " of West Virginia 684-719 

Chapter XII. 

Pluck and Spirit op the Border Boys — Eemarkable Exploit of the 
Johnson Boys — A Lad Kills a Eed-Crested Gobbler — Capture of Two Boys 
and the Price Paid— Adventures of Five Kentucky Boys — Jonathan Alder 
Captured — His Strange Eeturn — The Captivity of Two Little Brothers — Fran- 
cis Downing Saved by a Bear — Narrative of John Brickell's Captivity — 
Two Touching Instances of Indian Generosity — Adventures of Young James 
Eay — Four Hours under Fire and how Saved — How Eeadily Captive Boys 
became Indianized — Two Lads save the Life of a Girl — George Bozarth's Euse 
and Escape — Two Boys in the Woods all Winter — A Boy Made to Slay Six 
Indians — Anecdotes of Indians , 720-752 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 



Daniel Boone Alone in the Wilderness, - - Frontispiece. 

Young Washington Hurled into the Icy Allegheny, - - 21 

^ Major Halket Discovers Skeletons of Father and Brother, 67 

V Young Smith Ducked in the River by Squaws, - - 76 

J Indian Maid Betraying Pontiac's Plot to Gladwyn, - 128 

* Recovery of Captive Child by a Mother, - - - - 159 

J Abduction of the Boone and Calloway Girls, - - 261 

J Simon Kenton Takes a Mazeppa Ride, 305 

■vj Lewis Wetzel Slays Three in a Running Fight, - - 329 

J Major Sam. McColloch's Famous Plunge, - - - - 350 

., Capt. Sam. Brady, the Daring Partisan Leader, - - 426 

/ Andrew Poe's Famous Combat with Big Foot, - - 445 

./ Mike Fink, the "Last of the Keelboatmen," - - - 658 

4 A Pioneer Woman Makes Desperate Work, - 698 

■ The Little Johnson Lads Kill their Captors, - - 722 



PREFACE. 



The object of the following work is simple, and may be expressed in few 
words. "We aim to exhibit to the present generation, a faithful and reliable 
portraiture of Western Frontier Life and Struggle. "We confine ourselves 
chiefly to what may fitly be called the Heroic Age of the Border, embraced 
between Dunmore's "War of 1774 and the Battle of Fallen Timbers, in 1794, 
when the power of the Western Confederation was forever crushed, and its 
coherence utterly destroyed by " Mad Anthony Wayne." 

Never since, or even including, the feudal times of the Eobber Barons of 
Germany, or of the Moss Troopers of Scotland, has that stormy and turbulent 
period been excelled for deeds of personal prowess and of dauntless, unrecking 
courage. It really seems as if the constant environment and familiarity with 
perils the most instant and appalling, had begotten for them an utter contempt. 
The iron-hearted and steel-nerved woodsmen of the Border appear absolutely 
to have known no fear, and to have bidden a grim and unflinching defiance to 
all danger, come in whatever Protean shape it might. They even seemed to 
court it and to grow restive at its absence. As with Fitz James — 

If a path were dangerous known, 
The danger's self was lure alone. 

The cruel and furious warfare that ever existed between the jealous red pos- 
sessor and the resolute white invader of the Western soil, was one to the death 
and to the bitter end. It was, in fierceness and stubbornness, much like — and 
for the self-same reasons, too — that between God's wandering people and the 
nations beyond Jordan. Before them lay the promised Canaan — the " land 
flowing with milk and honey." They were bidden to go in and "possess 
it," and to smite the inhabitants thereof " hip and thigh." The contest was 
to be one of extermination to one side or the other — and the Jews won. 



x Preface. 

We have sought to avoid overloading our work with cumbrous detail, but to 
connect together chronologically a few only of the more salient and memorable 
of the Combats, Massacres and Captivities with which that tempestuous period 
actually bristles ; to sketch some of the more prominent actors who best illus- 
trate the spirit of that time, and to group together some representative facts 
and every-day occurrences, so as to give those of a far different age and occupa- 
tion some idea of the domestic and social life of the wilderness — the sports, 
perils and privations of our Western Border, one hundred years ago. 

The old and well-thumbed Border books of Pritts, Withers, Doddridge, De- 
Hass, McClung and McDonald — filled to repletion with the stirring ad- 
ventures or harrowing sufferings of the exposed and oft-smitten Border — have 
long been out of print and cannot now be obtained "for love or money." 
These we have patiently sifted — in many instances corrected — and herein essay 
to give the very cream of them all, adding much fresh and interesting inform- 
ation gleaned from our researches in this line, or furnished us by the de- 
scendants of the Pioneers, or by those who have made Border History a spe- 
cialty. It gives us pleasure, in this regard, to acknowledge our personal obli- 
gations to such enthusiastic and well-posted collectors as Lyman C. Draper, of 
Wisconsin ; Wills DeHass, of West Virginia ; Dr. W. A. Irvine, of Penn- 
sylvania ; C. W. Butterfield, of Bucyrus, Ohio ; General L. V. Bierce, of Ak- 
ron, Ohio ; Messrs. Veech, Hampton, Craig and Schwartz, of Pittsburgh, and 
others, who have so cheerfully assisted us in our "labor of love." 

It is great pity that the simple and unlettered actors in the rude and event- 
ful old Border days recorded so little of their stirring deeds and conflicts, and 
that, hence, so much is now left to changing and confusing tradition. As one 
after another Pioneer has passed from the stage, the power of amending all 
this has been diminished. It is now, alas ! almost too late. What can yet be 
done, however, should speedily be done to rescue from oblivion the evanescent 
memories of days that are past; to supply existing deficiencies ; to correct the 
many errors which prevail, and to restore some degree of order to the great 
confusion existing among Border Chronicles and Traditions. This is now so 
great as to amount, not only to marked discrepancies of fact, date and locality, 
but, in many instances, almost to positive contradictions. Such disorder rules 
as to justify, in a measure, the biting remark of that witty scoffer, Voltaire, 
that " History does not always lie." 



Preface. xi 

We have to do with a time and condition of our nation's progress so strange 
and of such marked peculiarity, that nothing like unto it can ever again oc- 
cur. It is said of Sir "Walter Ealeigh, that when once engaged writing history, 
he saw a fracas occur just hefore him, but was so disgusted and discouraged 
by the different and contradictory accounts brought of it, that he tore his 
manuscript into fragments, remarking, in effect, that since it was so difficult to 
record the exact truth about events happening right before one's eye, how im- 
possible it must be to attain accuracy as to occurrences transpiring centuries be- 
fore. There is a pregnant truth in the anecdote, and each year makes the task 
of amending and justifying our Border History and Traditions more difficult. 
In this duty each " picker up of unconsidered trifles " has his value, for it is of 
such stuff that history is made. 

We have striven to contribute our share ; taking pains to be correct ; reject- 
ing all we knew to be false ; supplementing, where possible, what was insuffi- 
cient, and amending what was confusing and disjointed. While our aim is 
truth, we do not profess infallibility. If we can show through what perils, 
trials and privations our country has been won, we thereby show — and so attain 
the object of our work — how dearly prized it should be by all, and how sacred 
should be the memories of the old Pioneers and their families, who fought so 
heroically, suffered so patiently and endured so persistently, one hundred years 
ago. 



OUR WESTERN BORDER. 



Chapter I 



INTRODUCTION. 

Where are the sturdy yeomen 

Who battled for this land, 
And trod these hoar old forests, 

A brave and gallant band ? 
They knew no dread of danger 

When rose the Indian's yell; 
Right gallantly they struggled, 

Right gallantly they fell. 
From Allegheny's summit 

To the farthest western shore, 
These brave men's bones are lying 

Where they perished in their gore. 
Their bones were left to whiten 

The spot where they were slain, 
And were ye now to seek them 

They would be sought in vain. — The Pioneer. 

One Hundred Years Ago ! That is a large measure of time in 
America ! Compared with Egypt or Greece or Rome, our Republic is 
yet in its veriest infancy. The ivy-mantled abbeys and rook-haunted 
castles of England date from William the Conqueror, over eight hun- 
dred years ago. One century here sufficeth to give the stamp of hoary 
antiquity, and our nation is even now celebrating its first Centennial 
with as much swelling "pride, pomp and circumstance" as if it were 
its fiftieth. 

Time, however, is not tested by periods, but by events. "Better," 
writes Tennyson, "fifty years of Europe than a cycle of Cathay." Of 
how much value, then, is one year in America, where life is so intensi- 
fied ; where quick-thronging events so crowd and jostle each other, and 
where rapid development is such a very marvel that the wild dream of 
yesterday becomes the sober reality of to-day; where entire com- 
munities rise, as*it were, like exhalations from the earth, and where 
the magic growth of Chicago and St. Louis may soon find parallel 
in some far city of the Plains or of the Pacific Slope. 



2 Our Western Border. 

One Hundred Years Ago, almost the entire vast and magnificent 
domain beyond the Alleghenies was an unbroken wilderness — an illimit- 
able ocean of verdure, sweeping over hill and dale in billowy undula- 
tions ; seamed here and there by dividing ridges, or cut into leafy rifts 
by abounding streams ; intersected only by devious Indian trails or 
buffalo paths ; inhabited by swarthy and subtle savages, or infested by 
noxious serpents and prowling beasts of prey. Green intervals, dotted 
with browsing deer ; expansive savannas, cumbered with clumsy bison ; 
savage gorges ; wild, sunless glens, or matted, luxuriant thickets, here 
and there broke the monotony of all this sylvan scenery. 

What is now the Great West, was then the Unknown West — as mys- 
terious a region and as provocative of daring adventure as are to-day 
the unexplored wilds of Central Africa. If the hardy hunters who 
ventured into those vast solitudes brought not back with them stories of 
"Cannibals that each other eat; Of Anthropophagi and men whose 
heads Do grow beneath their shoulders," they did circulate many won- 
drous stories of the marvelous fatness and beauty of those vast wastes ; 
of the variety and prodigality of the vegetation — vines, grasses, woods, 
flowers and exuberant undergrowth ; of the plenteous supply of every 
variety of noble game, and, especially, of the fierce and untamed sava- 
ges, who threaded the virgin forests ; who paddled their birchen barks on 
the full-banked streams, or who, hideous in paints, encountered them 
amid woodland glooms with horrid whoop and fierce assault. 

Little more than a half century before, Spottswood, the spirited Gov- 
ernor of the Colony of Virginia, had endeavored to stimulate the slum- 
bering Livingstones of his day and district, by establishing what was 
called the Transmontane Order of the Knights of the Golden Horse- 
shoe, investing each of those who ventured beyond the mountains, 
with a miniature golden horseshoe bearing the legend, " Sic jurat tran- 
scendere montes," or ' i Thus (or by this) he swears to cross the mount- 
ains." Equipping a company of horsemen, the adventurous Governor 
commenced his march in great pomp from Williamsburg, the then capi- 
tal of the colony. Pursuing their slow and devious way amid forests of 
majestic growth ; crossing bright streams of sparkling freshness ; passing 
by constant displays of leafy or floral exuberance, they finally climbed to 
the summit of the Allegheny mountains. But, that was the ultima thule 
of their explorations. They were, it is true, enchanted with the mag- 
nificent prospect which, from their rocky perch, burst upon their en- 
raptured vision, but they never reached the thither or sunset slopes of 
those mountains, but contented themselves with gazing, as did Moses 
from Mount Pisgah, at the affluent Canaan beyond. Even thirty years 
later there were but few, and those belonging to the "wild turkey 



Introduction. 3 

breed " of whom Boone and Kenton were such conspicuous members, 
who had advanced as far west as the Shenandoah Valley ; but it was not 
really until about 1760 that the prophetic line of Bishop Berkeley began 
to be realized : — " Westward the star of empire takes its way." 

It is quite foreign from our purpose to present a formal and precise 
chronicle of the gradual penetration of the pioneers into the western 
wilderness ; nor do we design to cumber and overload our work with 
details of Indian nations, customs and habits. All this would require 
whole volumes, and has been done fully and acceptably by others. 
What may be called the Heroic Age of Western Border Life and Strug- 
gle, is embraced in the last half of the 18th century, or to speak more 
definitely, from about the year 1760, after the capture of Forts Du- 
quesne and Niagara, down to the year 1794, when " Mad Anthony 
Wayne " forever broke the spirit and crushed the power of the Confed- 
erate Western Tribes at the battle of the " Fallen Timbers." Within 
the period thus limited, we may safely challenge all history, ancient or 
modern, to exhibit such a constant series of stubborn and desperate 
struggles. The turbulent times of the Robber Barons of Germany, or 
the bitter and violent feuds of the Scottish Border, furnish no parallels 
to the frequent forays and marauds ; to the innumerable acts of daring ; 
of cool, reckless courage and adventure ; of persistent tenacity of pur- 
pose, as are embraced in the chronicles and the unwritten traditions of 
the Pennsylvania, Virginia, Kentucky and Tennessee frontiers. It was 
a fierce, dogged, savage and desperate struggle between two brave and 
jealous races \ the whites fighting for room and opportunity to live and 
thrive, and the reds for what they deemed their own soil and hunting 
grounds. "When Greek meets Greek, then comes the tug o' war," 
and every man who went out upon those borders carried his life in his 
hands ; liable, at any time, to be shot or tomahawked from every tree 
that could cover a lurking foe ; his home and family constantly exposed 
to the merciless attacks of a savage, wily and implacable enemy. Each 
knew well that it was " war to the knife, and the knife to the hilt," and 
worked, idled or slept with his trusty blade or rifle within easy grasp. 
It was generally the young, ardent and the adventurous, who thus boldly 
made haste to bid grim defiance to perils and to offer a standing chal- 
lenge to fierce and revengeful foes. 

From this incessant exposure to imminent peril, there naturally grew 
up on the border a race of 'sturdy, reckless, rough-and-ready frontier- 
men to whom fear was absolutely unknown, and to many of whom the 
most thrilling passion of their lives was long, solitary hunts after In- 
dians whom they would track with the unswerving tenacity of the blood- 
hound and, when found, grapple with a most marvelous audacity and 



4 Our Western Border. 

doggedness. All their senses were on the alert ; trained to a wondrous 
skill and quickness with the keen tomahawk or the unerring rifle ; prac- 
ticed in every variety of wood-craft; they had an eye equal to the sava- 
ges themselves for detecting the minutest signs of an enemy, and for 
trailing him through the most bewildering woods and undergrowth to 
his very lair. We often shudder when, sitting by our quiet firesides, 
we read of the desperate combats between such mighty hunters as Ger- 
ard and Cummings and the ferocious lions, tigers, and other wild 
beasts, whose jungles they have gone long distances to penetrate ; but 
what are the fiercest and most infuriate of all animals that ever crouched 
to a leap, compared with the subtle and desperate American savage, 
perfectly at home in his native wilds ; with all his destructive wits, sharp- 
ened to an extraordinary acuteness ; taught from childhood to find life's 
highest honors in killing and scalping, and trained in every possible 
wile to lure or ensnare a foe. How truly the famous Poe, with his 
quaint and homely hunter's jargon, confessed to a common passion of 
the Border, when he said, with deepest feeling, " I've fout cats and bar 
and painter, and every other wild varmint of the woods, but Injuns beats 
them all ! Yes, Injuns beats them all ! " 

And think, too, of the heroic women ! — the wives and mothers of 
the pioneers. As one of their own number has said, " A good Provi- 
dence sent such men and women into the world together. They were 
made to match." It is said that war, if it lead to havoc, mourning and 
desolation, has also a tendency to excite the nobler and more heroic pas- 
sions of the soul. It is, in a measure, true, and the women of the 
scourged and harassed Border were — under their constant familiarity 
with danger in its most horrid and appalling forms — perfect paragons of 
nerve and fortitude. The annals of the West are absolutely brilliant 
with the most marvelous exhibitions of female heroism. They had not, 
like the men, the passions and excitements of the chase, but were left 
in exposed, isolated cabins, with all the cares and anxieties of the 
family upon them, and when these homes were suddenly invaded by the 
pitiless savages and themselves carried off into a hopeless captivity, were 
liable to see the brains of their young babes dashed out against the 
nearest tree, and their older children either killed or scalped before 
their eyes or scattered among various captors. How crowded are all 
our Border chronicles with the sickening horrors of settlers' cabins at- 
tacked and the women and children shamefully maltreated ! 

The Mothers of our Forest Land, 

Such were their daring deeds. 
Their monument! where does it stand? 

Their epitaph, who reads? 
No braver dames had Sparta, 

No nobler matrons Rome, 
Yet who or lauds or honors them 

E'en in their own green home ? 



Introduction. 5 

They had no respite from a wearing, consuming anxiety, except in 
the dead of winter, when the Indians generally lay quiet in their forest 
towns ; as soon, however, as the wild geese were seen steering their way 
to the north, or the frogs were heard piping in the ponds and marshes, 
then a great dread came over them. The poet has sung of Autumn, that 
the " melancholy days have come, the saddest of the year," but with 
women of the border, it was the Spring whose breezes came freighted 
with sadness. The customary harbingers of Spring to them were the 
appalling, blood-curdling yell of the stealthy savage, or the gleam of his 
thirsting and unsparing tomahawk. They regarded the budding of 
trees and the opening bloom of flowers with the most gloomy forebod- 
ings, and listened to the songs of the woodland birds as but the prelude 
to the shriek of assault. Then was the bark of the watch-dog at night, 
especially if their male protectors were absent, far more dismal than the 
cry of either wolf or panther, since it suggested the probability of lurk- 
ing redmen, and the fond, anxious mother would start from her troubled 
slumber, and, with ear attent and head uplifted, would listen, listen, 
listen for the sound of the distant war-whoop or the rude assault upon 
her barred, oaken door. Then, perchance, she would fall again into 
fitful, uneasy slumber, to dream of some murderous deed or horrid 
scalping. Oh, "we, in these piping times o' peace," may never know — 
most certainly can never realize, a tithe of the dreads, the privations, 
the sufferings and the untold and untellable horrors which the noble and 
heroic women of the West endured for many and many years of their 
lives. Surely, had not a constant familiarity with danger bred indiffer- 
ence to it, their lives would have been inexpressibly hard and intolerable. 

It would be clearly impossible, as indeed it would be undesirable, to 
publish a full and detailed chronicle of all that was done or suffered by 
the pioneers and their families. We can only hope to give readers a 
true and impressive idea of border life and struggle, by carefully 
selecting salient events and personal adventures, each differing from the 
other in character and incident, but all, together, furnishing, as it 
were, a historical panorama of a half century of forays, marauds, mas- 
sacres and adventures, and narrated, so far as may be, in the chrono- 
logic order of occurrence, and connected together by a running com- 
mentary of explanation. By thus retaining only the cream of the 
various border books — most of which have long been out of print, and 
are exceedingly rare and costly; by adding many new sketches and 
adventures, known to a comparative few ; by correcting the errors of 
the old, staple histories, and furnishing much new and original matter, 
we hope, within the compass of a portable book, to give a faithful idea 
of our .western border as it was one hundred years ago. 



6 Our Western Border. 

And, first, it is a great but common error to suppose that the vast 
domain stretching west of the Alleghenies was thickly settled and occu- 
pied with Indians. The whole of Kentucky had not a single tribe resi- 
dent within its ample borders, but was used by the Catawbas, Chero- 
kees and Chickasaws to the south, and by the Delawares, Shawnees and 
Hurons to the north, as one common hunting and skirmishing ground. 
It was about the same with the western half of Virginia and eastern 
half of Ohio. Immense tracks of woodland — a very paradise for 
hunters — were left an utter solitude. Large parts of Michigan, Illinois 
and Tennessee were tenanted by wild beasts alone. In the whole vast 
region lying between the Atlantic and Mississippi, the Cumberland arid 
Lake Superior, the entire Indian population, at the opening of the 
Revolution, scarce exceeded ten thousand warriors, of which the Six 
Nations of New York numbered about two thousand, the Delawares six 
hundred, the Shawnees five hundred, the Hurons or Wyandots about 
the same, the Miami tribes eight hundred, &c. Most of the Ohio In- 
dians, too, were but late comers, the Delawares and Shawnees having 
emigrated from Pennsylvania from 1730 to 1750, and the Hurons 
having moved down from the neighborhood of Detroit and the upper 
lakes. 

The Shawnee villages which Christian Post found in the upper Ohio 
valley were soon after abandoned, and the majestic Ohio, "strong 
without rage; without o'erflowing, full," swept onward from its head to 
its mouth, with scarce a hamlet along its woody margins to denote the 
abodes of human beings. On interior streams, however, as the Sciota, 
Muskingum, Wabash, Miami, &c, the villages of the redmen were 
more numerous. A significant reason is given for this. It is said that 
the same beautiful and abounding stream which the French so appro- 
priately called La Belle Riviere, was long previously known to some of 
the tribes which lived along its borders under the dread name of the 
River of Blood. It was no idle title. Tradition tells of many a san- 
guinary battle along the picturesque shores of this grand old river, over 
whose sylvan banks has so often trickled the crimson stream of 
Indian massacre. 

When Virginia was first known to the whites, the Massawomees — so 
called by the Indians of East Virginia, to whom they were a constant 
source of alarm — were the most powerful confederacy of western tribes, 
and many a fierce and bloody fight are they reported to have had with 
the then Five Nations of New York, the most powerful combination of 
eastern tribes. It had, in the early times, been the fashion of these 
Iroquois, settled about the York lakes, to come down the Allegheny 
and Ohio in flotillas of canoes, and, moving thus swiftly and secretly, 



Destruction of the Erie Tribe. 7 

having few impedimenta and little or no trouble about provisions, and 
leaving no trail either to betray their presence or indicate their line of 
retreat, they could thus swoop down like a tempest upon towns and 
villages within striking distances of the Ohio. For this reason the 
regions on both margins of that stream had long been unoccupied, and 
were only roamed over by hunting parties of various nations, the tribal 
villages generally lying from fifty to a hundred miles back, and being 
located at the forks of some tributary stream allowing easy canoe 
navigation in all directions. 

These Six Nations, called Iroquois by the French and Mingoes or 
Mengwe by the Dutch, merit a somewhat more extended notice at our 
hands, since of all the savage tribes in America they stood foremost in 
war, in eloquence, in primitive virtues, and in all the arts of policy. 
They were the Romans of America, and were the proud conquerors of 
an immense extent of country, including even Canada itself, and it was 
through actual or alleged purchase from them that the English asserted 
title to all the land west of the Allegheny Mountains, the French claim- 
ing the same magnificent domain by right of discovery and prior 
possession. They consisted originally of five nations : the Mohawks, 
the Oneidas, the Onondagos, the Cayugas, and the Senecas, to whom a 
sixth, the Tuscaroras, from the south, were admitted in. The con- 
federacy thus formed was strong, close and harmonious, their am- 
bition and ferocious valor adding one domain after another, and sub- 
jecting to their dominion every tribe in the whole country worth con- 
tending with. 

As De Witt Clinton truly remarked: "They are the Romans of 
America," and through the magic potency of union and concerted ac- 
tion, were able to accomplish wonders. It was among them, and at 
the time when they had arrived at the height of their power, that we 
must look for the highest type of the American Indian, such as he was 
before debauched and degraded by the contaminating influences of the 
debased trader and rum-seller. To give only one instance of the success 
of the Iroquois in the subjugation of other nations, we subjoin their 
traditional account of the total 

DESTRUCTION OF THE ERIE TRIBE OF INDIANS. 

The Eries were famed as the most powerful and warlike of all the 
Indian tribes. They resided at the foot of the great lake of the same 
name, at a place called Tu-shu-way, now the opulent city of Buffalo. 

When the Eries heard of the close confederation formed between 
the Mohawks, Oneidas, Onondagos, Cayugas and Senecas, which went 
under the name of the Five Nations, they imagined it must be for 



fc Our Western Border. 

some mischievous purpose. Although confident of their superiority- 
over any one of the tribes inhabiting the countries within the bounds 
of their knowledge, they dreaded the power of such combined forces. 
In order to satisfy themselves regarding the character, disposition, 
and power of those they considered their natural enemies, the Eries 
resorted to the following means. 

They sent a friendly message to the Senecas, who were their nearest 
western neighbors and styled the Warders of the Threshold of the 
Long House, inviting them to select one hundred of their most active 
and athletic young men to play a game of ball against' the same number 
to be selected by the Eries, for a wager which should be considered 
worthy of the occasion and the character of the great nation in whose 
behalf the offer was made. 

The message was received and entertained in the most respectful man- 
ner. A council of the Five Nations was called, and the proposition 
fully discussed, and a messenger in due time dispatched with the deci- 
sion of the council, respectfully declining the challenge. This embold- 
ened the proud and warlike Eries, and the next year the offer was re- 
newed, and, after being again considered, was again formally declined. 
This was far from satisfying the proud Lords of the Lake, and the chal- 
lenge was renewed a third time. The young " braves " of the Iroquois 
now became greatly excited. They clamored for the acceptance of 
the audacious defi, and, finally, the wise councils which had hitherto 
prevailed at last gave way and the challenge was accepted. 

Nothing could exceed the enthusiasm with which each tribe sent forth 
its chosen champions for the contest. The only difficulty seemed to be 
to make a selection where all were so worthy. After much delay, one 
hundred of the flower of all the tribes were finally designated, and the 
day for their departure was fixed. An experienced chief was chosen as 
the leader of the party, whose orders the young men were strictly en- 
joined to obey. A grand council was called, and in the presence of the 
assembled multitude the party was charged in the most solemn manner 
to observe a pacific course of conduct towards their competitors and the 
nation whose guests they were about to become and to allow no provo- 
cation, however great, to be resented by an act of aggression on their 
part, but in all respects to acquit themselves worthy the representatives 
of a great and powerful people, anxious to cultivate peace and friend- 
ship with their neighbors. 

Under these solemn injunctions, the party took up its long wilderness 
march for Tu-shu-way. When the chosen band had arrived near their 
their destination, a messenger was sent forward to notify the Eries of 
their arrival and the next day was set apart for their entree. 



Destruction of the Erie Tribe. 9 

The graceful and athletic forms, the tasteful yet not cumbrous dress, 
the noble, dignified bearing of their chief, and, more than all, the mo- 
dest demeanor of the young warriors of the Iroquois party won the ad- 
miration of all beholders. They brought no arms. Each one bore a 
bat, used to throw or strike a ball, tastefully ornamented, being a hick- 
ory stick about five feet long, bent round at one end and a deer-thong 
netting woven across the bow. 

After a day of repose and refreshment all things were arranged for 
the contest. The Chief of the Iroquois brought forward and deposited 
upon the ground, a large pile of elegantly-wrought belts of wampum, 
costly robes, silver and copper bands, beautifully ornamented mocca- 
sins and other articles of great value in the eyes of the swarthy sons of 
the forest, as the stake and wager on the part of his people. They were 
abundantly matched by the Eries with stakes of equal value — article by 
article, tied together and again deposited on the pile. 

The game began and although contested with desperation and mar- 
velous skill by the Eries, was finally won by the Iroquois, who bore off 
the prizes in triumph. Thus ended the first day. 

The Iroquois having now accomplished the object of their visit, pre- 
pared to take their leave, but the Chief of the Eries, addressing him- 
self to their leader, said their young men, though fairly beaten in the 
game of ball, would not be satisfied unless they could have, also, a foot 
race, and proposed to match ten of their number against ten of the Iro- 
quois party, which was finally assented to by the Iroquois, who were 
again victorious. 

The Kauk-waus, who resided on the Eighteen Mile Creek, being pres- 
ent as the friends and allies of the Eries, now invited the Iroquois to 
visit them before their return home and thither the whole party repaired. 
The Chief of the Eries, as a last trial of the courage and prowess of his 
guests, proposed to select ten men, to be matched with a like number 
from the Iroquois, to wrestle, and that each victor should dispatch his 
adversary on the spot by braining him with a tomahawk and bearing off 
the scalp as a trophy. 

This savage proposition was not pleasing to the Iroquois ; they, how- 
ever, concluded to accept the challenge with a determination, should 
they be victorious, not to execute the bloody part of the proposition. 
The champions were accordingly chosen. A Seneca was the first to 
step into the ring, who threw his adversary amid the shouts of the ex- 
cited multitude. The victor, however, stepped back and declined to 
slay the victim lying passive at his feet. As quick as thought, however, 
the Chief of the Eries cast his tomahawk and at a single blow scattered 
the brains of the vanquished warrior over the sod. His body was dragged 



10 ■ Our Western Border. 

out of the way and another champion of the Eries presented himself, 
who was as quickly thrown by his adversary and as quickly dispatched 
by the infuriated Chief of the Eries. A third met the same fate. 

The Chief of the Iroquois seeing now the terrible excitement that 
agitated the swaying assemblage, quietly gave the signal for retiring. 
Every man obeyed the signal, and in an instant the whole body had 
vanished beneath the sombre shades of the forest, and in two hours 
arrived again at Tu-shu-way, where, gathering up their various trophies, 
they departed for their distant homes. 

This visit and astounding victory of the Iroquois only served to in- 
crease the alarm and jealousy of the Eries and to profoundly convince 
them that they had most powerful and formidable rivals to contend 
with. It was no part of their policy to cultivate friendship with tribes 
growing daily stronger by union. They knew of no better mode of 
securing peace for themselves but by exterminating all who might 
oppose them, and concluded that their only chance of success against 
this growing confederation would be to attack each tribe singly. They 
were far more than a match with any one of the confederate tribes. 
Should they wait to be invaded and cope with the whole united force 
of their adversaries, or should they make a sudden and secret move- 
ment and destroy them in detail? The question was urgent and the 
decision was prompt, and a powerful war party was organized to attack 
first the Senecas, residing at the foot of the lake of the same name and 
along the banks of the Seneca river. 

It happened that at this time there resided among the Eries a Seneca 
woman, who in early life had been taken prisoner and had married an 
Erie " brave." He had died and left her a widow without children, a 
stranger in a strange land. Seeing the terrible preparation for a bloody 
onslaught upon her kindred and friends, she formed the resolution of 
at once apprising them of their danger. At the first nightfall, there- 
fore, taking the course of the Niagara river, she traveled all night, and 
early next morning reached the shores of Ontario. Jumping into a 
canoe which she found fastened to a tree, she boldly pushed out into 
the open lake and coasted along to the mouth of the Oswego, where 
was located a village of her nation. She directed her steps to the 
lodge of the third chief and disclosed her fateful news. She was 
secreted by this chief, and fleet runners were at once dispatched to all 
the tribes, summoning them to meet in grand council at Onondago. 
When all were assembled the chief arose and in the most solemn man- 
ner rehearsed a vision, in which he said a beautiful bird had appeared 
to him and asserted that a great war party of the Eries was preparing 
to make a secret and sudden descent upon them, and that nothing could 



Destruction of the Erie Tribe. 11 

save them but an immediate rally of all their warriors to meet the foe 
before he could be able to strike. 

This solemn announcement was heard in breathless silence. When 
the chief had sat down there arose one fierce yell of rage and madness, 
and the earth fairly trembled as the mighty mass stamped upon the 
ground with fury, brandishing on high their war clubs and tomahawks. 

No time was to be lost. A body of five thousand warriors was 
speedily organized and, also, a corps of reserve, consisting of one thou- 
sand young men who had never yet been in battle. The bravest and 
most experienced chiefs from all the tribes were placed in command ; 
the spies immediately set out in search of the hated foe, and the whole 
body stealthily took up its line of march in the direction of the ex- 
pected attack. 

For several days they continued to advance. They had scarcely, 
however, passed the foot of the Can-an-da-gua Lake, when their scouts 
brought back news of the advance of the Eries, who had already 
crossed the Ce-nis-se-u (Genesee) river in great force. The Eries had 
not the slightest intimation of the approach of their foes. They relied 
upon the secrecy and celerity of their movements to surprise and sub- 
due the Senecas almost without resistance. 

The two parties met at a point about half way from Canandagua 
Lake and the Genesee river, and it was just at the outlet of the little 
lake Honeoye that the struggle took place. This small stream alone 
divided the two hostile arrays. The entire strength of the Confeder- 
ates was not in view of the Eries. The reserve force of young men 
did not appear at all, being carefully kept concealed. 

Nothing could resist the fierceness and impetuosity of the Eries at the 
first view of their hated foes. They rushed through the intervening 
stream and fell upon them with shrill yells and incredible fury. The 
undaunted courage and desperate valor of the Iroquois could not avail 
against such a terrible and irresistible onslaught and the first ranks were 
compelled to yield ground. The entire force, the Iroquois reserve only 
excepted, now became engaged. The shock of battle was terrible ! 
Hand to hand, foot to foot, they struggled long and desperately. No 
quarter was asked or given on either side. 

As the fight thickened and became more obstinate and destructive, the 
Eries, for the first time, appeared sensible of their true situation. What 
they had long feared had now become a terrible reality. Their enemies 
had combined for their destruction and they now found themselves en- 
gaged in a desperate struggle, not only for the glory, but for the very 
existence of their nation. 

Too late to falter now ! They were proud and valorous and knew 



12 Our Western Border. 

how to conquer, but not to yield. The combat grew from that instant 
more bloody and obstinate. The Iroquois feeling strong in numbers; 
fired with zeal and ambition ; acting for the first time in concert and led 
on by their bravest and mightiest chiefs, felt themselves to be invinci- 
ble. Though staggered at first by the fierce and repeated rushes of 
their opponents, they manfully rallied and returned yell for yell and blow 
for blow. 

And now the awful din of battle rises higher and higher. The war 
club, the tomahawk, the scalping knife do terrible deeds of death and 
havoc. During the very hottest of this savage and bloody battle, the 
corps of reserve of one thousand eager and wrathful young Iroquois 
were secretly led across the stream and placed in ambush in the rear of 
the Eries. 

Seven times had the brave and heroic Eries been driven across the 
crimson stream, and as often regained their ground and now when ex- 
hausted and hardest/pressed by this appalling and unequal contest, the 
shrill, blood-curdling yells of the Iroquois' reserve are heard in their 
startled ears. Unblenched ; disdaining to yield but ready to die, they 
turn to confront this fresh and formidable foe. In vain ! In vain ! 
What could valor, however heroic, avail against this fresh swarm whose 
onset was so terrible and irresistible. The battle was lost and all that 
remained was to meet the death they courted like true warriors. Hun- 
dreds were cut down and trampled over. Only a comparative few of 
the Eries escaped to carry the sad news of their utter overthrow to their 
wives, old men and children. But the victors gave them no rest but 
pursued with the fierceness and tenacity of savage sleuth-hounds. Few 
were left to tell the tale of disaster. 

Tradition adds that many years after a powerful war party of the de- 
scendants of the Eries, who had fled beyond the Mississippi, ascended 
the Ohio and Allegheny and made a last desperate assault upon their 
hereditary foes, the Senecas, at Tu-shu-way. A great battle was again 
fought, but with a like result. The Eries were not alone defeated, but 
were slain to a man. The places that once knew them, now knew them 
no more, and nothing at this late day but the name of Erie remains to 
tell that such a nation ever existed. 

We find among the records of the Jesuit Missions another episode of 
this international contest which, although known but to few, is yet full 
of romantic interest. Twelve years before the date of the great battle 
at the foot of Honeoye, the Jesuit missionaries were at work among the 
Iroquois, but with scarcely any appreciable results. When the news of 
the advance of the Eries was blazoned abroad among the tribes, Father 
Le Moyne was zealously serving at Onondago, where was stationed the 



The French Canadian and the English Trader. 13 

Long House of the Five Nations. Of those who gathered at the call of 
the council to meet the invasion, was an influential chief, Achiongeras 
by name. On the eve of his departure he called on the faithful priest — 
pictured to him the perils he was about to encounter, wished to put 
himself under the protection of the Great Spirit and was finally bap- 
tized. The converted chief, with the dews of baptism yet damp upon 
his brow, then started, at the head of his savage legion, on the war 
path. 

The opposing forces came together, as we have related, with a dread- 
ful shock. When the lines of the Iroquois were slowly retreating before 
the victorious Eries, Achiongeras, whose intrepid bearing had made 
him conspicuous in the fight, suddenly paused amid the deadly conflict 
and beckoned to the braves who supported him. They gathered about 
him at the signal. Dropping upon his knee, the Christian convert lifted 
his crimsoned hands towards heaven, the group of encircling savages 
imitating the action, when with a solemn vow they unitedly plighted 
their faith in the God of prayer if He would only give them aid in this 
crisis of their peril. The vow was honored from above. Animated 
afresh, the wavering band regained its footing, won back its lost ground 
and paused not until the field was won. 

Achiongeras and his followers were true to their pledge. After the 
return of the victors a general council was called, when, by solemn de- 
cree, Christianity was proclaimed in the capital of the confederacy. 
The French were invited over from Canada to plant a Mission. Fathers 
Menard, Dablon, Broar and Boursier, attended by a numerous escort of 
savages, launched their fleet of canoes at Quebec, ascended the St. Law- 
rence, the banner of the Cross waving its silken folds at the head, and 
amid the roar of cannon and the ringing cheers of waiting multitudes, 
landed, after a tedious but prosperous voyage, on the shores of Onon- 
dago, and soon after erected a house of worship ; and so was founded 
the great central Mission of St. Marys, which, for a long time, grew and 
prospered, having its branch missions among the other four nations of 
the confederacy. 

THE FRENCH CANADIAN AND THE ENGLISH TRADER. 

We have already stated that the French claimed all the country wa- 
tered by the Mississippi and its tributaries by right of discovery and 
prior occupation. This last fact was owing to a most marked and nota- 
ble difference of character between the French and the English colonists. 
The latter were not at first fond of roaming, but confined themselves to 
the narrow belt of settlements along the eastern sea-coast. They were 
toilers and moilers \ slow, patient, contented and industrious as com- 



14 Our Western Border. 

pared with their French neighbors ; less ambitious to make explorations 
than to wrest from the soil a comfortable living. The French Canadian, 
however, was his very antithesis ; gay, buoyant, restless and roaming, 
he had an invincible longing for vagabondizing and a marvelous faculty 
of adaptation to any and all circumstances. As Parkman has so truth- 
fully remarked, he was a rightful heir to French bravery and restlessness. 
He had an eager love for wandering and adventure, and this propensity 
found ample scope in the service of the fur-trade. 

When the priest had shrived him of his sins ; when, after the parting 
carousal, he embarked with his gun and merry compagnons du voyage in 
the deep-laden canoe ; when their oars kept time to the measured ca- 
dence of their song, and the blue, sunny bosom of the Ottowa tapened 
before them; when their frail bark quivered among the milky foam and 
black rocks of the rapids, and when, around their camp-fire, they lightly 
wasted half the night with jests and laughter — then the Canadian was 
in his element. His footsteps explored the farthest hiding-places of the 
wilderness. In the evening dance, his red cap mingled with the scalp- 
locks and feathers of the Indian braves, or, stretched on a bear-skin by 
the side of his dusky mistress, he watched the gambols of his hybrid off- 
spring, in happy oblivion of the partner whom he left unnumbered 
leagues behind. 

This spirit for far-reaching exploration lay not alone in the peculiar 
genius and temperament of the people, but was greatly enhanced by a 
fervent religious zeal — a regular devoteeism of the intense, engrossing 
kind which nerved Cortez and Pizarro to perform miracles of valor and 
endurance that they might win whole peoples to the "true faith." 
Canada was a loyal child of the Catholic faith. The church, the con- 
vent and the shrine were seen at every turn; over every cluster of the 
small white houses of the Canadians glittered the sacred emblem of the 
cross, and in the towns and villages could everywhere be met the black 
robe of the Jesuit, the gray garb of the Recollect priest, and the aus- 
tere habit of the Ursuline nun. All France was filled with the zeal of 
proselytism, and the conversion of whole races of American heathen 
was the line in which their enthusiasm went out. 

The Jesuits, with their far-famed and self-sacrificing devotion, were 
the foremost in carrying their faith to the remotest and most inaccessi- 
ble regions of the West. Nothing could stay — nothing appall them. 
Their story is replete with romance — miracles of patient suffering, heroic 
self-sacrifice and daring enterprise. They were the pioneers of French 
America. We see them, says Parkman, among the frozen forests of 
Acadia, struggling in snow-shoes with some wandering Algonquin 
horde, or crouching in the crowded hunting-lodge, half stifled in the 



The French Canadian and the English Trader. 15 

smoky den, and battling with troops of famished dogs for the last mor- 
sel of sustenance. Again, we see the black-robed priest wading among 
the white rapids of the Ottawa, toiling with his savage comrades to drag 
the canoe against the headlong water. Again, radiant in the vestments 
of his priestly office, he administers the sacramental bread to kneeling 
crowds of plumed and painted proselytes in the black forests of the 
Hurons, or, bearing his life in his hand, he carries his sacred mission 
into the strongholds of the Iroquois, like a man who invades, unarmed, 
a den of angry tigers. Jesuit explorers traced the St. Lawrence to its 
source and said masses among the solitudes of Lake Superior, where 
the boldest fur-trader scarcely dared to follow. 

We have already noted the wonderful success the French had for win- 
ning me hearts of the untutored redmen of the forest ; it was as re- 
markable, in its way, as the genius of the English in repelling and alien- 
ating them. The latter nation appeared to want land; the former to 
establish empire — hence these showed the savages every honor; lured 
them with medals and decorations; were prodigal of their gifts, and, 
with the well-known pliant, plastic temper of the Frenchman, even con- 
descended to hunt, live and marry with them, furnishing another illus- 
tration of the truthful border saying, that it is impossible for an Indian 
to turn "pale-face," but remarkably easy for a pale-face to turn Indian. 
In order better to show the contrast that existed between the two races 
in their methods of dealing with the redmen, we again quote Parkman: 

"The fur-trade engendered a peculiar class of men, known by the 
appropriate name of bush-rangers, or coureurs des bois — half-civilized 
vagrants, whose chief vocation was conducting the canoes of the traders 
along the lakes and rivers of the interior, but many of whom, shaking 
loose every tie of blood and kindred, identified themselves with the In- 
dians and sank into utter barbarism. In many a squalid camp among 
the plains and forests of the West, the traveler would have encountered 
men owning the blood and speaking the language of France, yet in 
their wild, swarthy visages and barbarous costumes, seeming more akin 
to those with whom they had cast their lot. He loved to decorate his 
long hair with eagle feathers; to make his face hideous with soot, ochre 
or vermilion, and to adorn his greasy hunting frock with horse-hair 
fringes. His dwelling, if he had one, was a wigwam. He lounged on 
a bear skin while his squaw boiled his venison and lighted his pipe. In 
hunting, dancing, singing, lounging, or taking a scalp, he rivaled the 
genuine Indian. His mind was tinctured with the superstitions of the 
forest. He had faith in the magic drum of the conjurer; he was not 
sure that a thunder cloud could not be charmed away by whistling at it 
through the wing-bone of an eagle ; he carried the tail of a rattlesnake 



16 Our Western Border. 

in his bullet-pouch by way of amulet, and he placed implicit trust in 
the prophetic truth of his dreams. 

"The English traders and the rude men in their employ showed, it is 
true, a swift alacrity to throw off the restraints of civilization, but 
though they became barbarians they did not- become Indians. With the 
British settlers of the frontier, it was much the same. Rude, fierce and 
contemptuous, they daily encroached upon the hunting grounds of the 
Indians, and then paid them for the injury in abuse, insult, curses and 
threats. Thus the native population shrank back from before the 
English as from before an advancing pestilence, while, on the other 
hand, in the very heart of Canada, Indian communities sprang up, 
cherished by the government and favored by an easy-tempered people. 
The scouts, hunters and traders who ranged the woods beyond the 
English border, were a distinct, peculiar class, many of them coarse, 
ferocious and unscrupulous, yet, even in the worst, one might often 
have found a vigorous growth of war-like virtues, an iron endurance, 
an undespairing courage, a wondrous sagacity and a singular fertility 
of resource. 

' ' As for the traders, their goods were packed at Fort Pitt on the backs 
of horses, and thus distributed among the various Indian villages. 
More commonly, however, the whole journey was performed by means 
of trains, or, as they were called, brigades, of pack-horses, which, 
leaving the frontier settlements, climbed the shadowy heights of the 
Alleghenies and treaded the forests of the Ohio; diving through 
thickets and wading over streams. The men employed in this perilous 
calling were a rough, bold and intractable class, often as fierce and 
truculent as the savages themselves. A blanket coat, a frock of 
smoked deer-skin, a rifle on the shoulder and a knife and tomahawk 
in the belt, formed their ordinary equipment. The principal trader, 
the owner of the merchandise, would fix his head-quarters at some 
large Indian town, whence he would dispatch his subordinates to the 
surrounding villages, with a suitable supply of blankets and red cloth, 
guns and hatchets, liquor, tobacco, paint, beads and hawks-bells. 
This wild traffic was liable to every species of disorder — and it is not 
to be wondered at that, in a region where law was unknown, the 
jealousies of rival traders should become a fruitful source of broils, 
robberies and murders. 

"It was no easy matter for a novice, embarrassed with his cumbrous 
gun, to urge his horse through the thick trunks and underbrush, or even 
to ride at speed along the narrow Indian trails where, at every yard, the 
impending branches scratched him across the face. At night the camp 
would be formed by the side of some, spring or rivulet, and if the 



Washington's First Visit to the Great West. 17 

traveler was skillful in the use of his rifle, a haunch of venison would 
often form his evening meal. If it rained, a shade of elm or bass- 
wood bark was the ready work of an hour, a pile of evergreen boughs 
formed a bed and the saddle or knapsack a pillow. A party of Indian 
wayfarers would often be met journeying through the forest — a chief or 
warrior, perhaps, with his squaws and family. The Indians would 
usually make their camp in the neighborhood of the white men, and at 
meal time the warrior would seldom fail to seat himself by the trader's 
fire and gaze with solemn gravity at the viands before him and receive 
his fragment of bread and cup of coffee with an ejaculation of grati- 
tude." 

It was just such traders as these who, from the year 1748 down to 
1783, were first stopped by the French and warned off the soil, or, 
finding that course ineffective, were then seized and sent captives to 
Canada. The French were then busy erecting a continuous chain of 
forts from Niagara down to Louisiana, and plainly with the intent of 
firmly holding" all the vast country which they openly claimed as theirs. 
Alarming reports of their violent and summary proceedings now 
reached the English colonies. 

WASHINGTON'S FIRST VISIT TO THE GREAT WEST. 

Gov. Dinwiddie, of Virginia, an official of great energy and deter- 
mination, was not only startled but indignant at the various rumors 
which reached him from the Ohio region. He, therefore, appointed 
Major George Washington, — at that time a young surveyor of about 
twenty-two years of age, of excellent repute for judgment and bravery, 
and whom previous life had enured to hardships and instructed in 
woodcraft, — to proceed immediately into the distant wilds of the west; 
visit and deliver a letter to the French commandant ; ascertain pre- 
cisely their strength in the Ohio country, the number and location of 
their forts, and what were their claims and intentions. 

The appointment was a good one. The zealous Major set out 
promptly on the very day he received his commission, and arrived at 
Wills Creek on Nov. 14th. Engaging horse and servants, and select- 
ing Jacob Van Braam as his French interpreter, and Christopher Gist, 
who was better acquainted with the western wilderness than any colo- 
nist of that day, as his guide, he turned into an old Indian trail and 
commenced his toilsome way, arriving at Turtle Creek, near the very 
point where scarce two years after he engaged the French-Indian army 
in the disastrous battle of Braddocks Fields, on the 2 2d. 

Washington kept a very accurate and interesting journal of his pro- 
ceedings, which on his return was immediately published, both in the 



18 Our Western Border. 

Colonies and in Great Britain, and was the means of enlightening the 
English government as to the aggressive designs of the French. Some 
parts of his journal we will quote ; and first, the earliest mention made 
of the forks of the Ohio — called De-un-da-ga by the Indians, and 
afterwards the famous site of the French Fort Duquesne, then of the 
British Fort Pitt, and now of the vast and opulent city of Pittsburgh. 
We quote : 

"The waters were quite impassable without swimming our' horses, 
which obliged us to get the loan of a canoe from Frazier," (an Indian 
trader who had lately been driven away from Venango by the French, 
and whose humble log cabin, on the banks of the Monongahela, was the 
ultima thule of English frontier advance) "and to send Barnaby Cur- 
rin and Henry Steward down the Monongahela with our baggage, to 
meet us at the forks of the Ohio, about ten miles below : there to cross 
the Allegheny. 

" As I got down before the canoe did, I spent some time in viewing 
the rivers and the land in the fork, which I think extremely well situ- 
ated for a fort, as it has the absolute command ol both rivers. The 
land at the point is twenty-five feet above the common surface of the 
water ; and a considerable ' bottom ' of flat, well-timbered land all 
around it, very convenient for building. The rivers are each a quarter 
of a mile or more across and run here very nearly at right angles — 
Allegheny bearing north-east and Monongahela south-east. The 
former of these two is a very rapid and swift-running water, the other 
deep and still, without any perceptible fall. 

" About two miles from this, on the south-east side of the Ohio, at 
the place where the Ohio Company intended to erect a fort, lives Shin- 
giss, King of the Delawares. We called upon him to invite him to a 
council at Logstown. Shingiss attended us to Logstown " (an Indian 
town on the Ohio, about twenty miles below the forks,) " where we 
arrived between sun-setting and dark, the twenty-fifth day after I left 
Williamsburg. 

" As soon as I came to town I went to Monakatoocha " (afterwards a 
famous chief, generally known as Scarrooyaddy, who accompanied 
Braddock's Expedition as chief guide, and who was noted for his loy- 
alty and repeated services to the English) "and informed him by John 
Davidson, my Indian interpreter, that I was sent a messenger to the 
French General and was ordered to call upon the sachems of the Six 
Nations to acquaint them with it. I gave him a string of wampum and 
a twist of tobacco, and desired him to send for Tannacharison, the Half 
King (who was absent at his hunting cabin at Little Beaver Creek) which 
he promised to do by a runner in the morning, as also for other sachems. 



Washington's First Visit to the Great West. 19 

f* About three o'clock this evening the Half King came to town. I 
went up and invited him privately to my tent, and desired him to re- 
late some of the particulars of his late journey to the French Com- 
mandant, and to give me an account of the ways and the distance. He 
told me that the nearest and levelest way was now impassable by 
reason of many large miry savannas ; that we must be obliged to go by 
Venango, and should not get to the fort in less than five or six days' 
good traveling, &c, &c. 

" The Half King then said that lie had been received very sternly 
by the French commander, who abruptly asked him his business, &c. 
The Half King then made to him a strong protest against the French 
occupying their lands, building forts, &c, and warned him off the 
whole territory and menaced him with a rod to drive him away. The 
French Commandant had answered very haughtily that he was not 
1 afraid of flies or mosquitoes, and that down that river (the Allegheny) 
he was sure to go, and that if the river was blocked up he had 
abundance of force to burst it open ; that the Half King talked foolish 
to call the land Indian land since the French had seen it first,' &c. He 
also informed the Half King that the French had built two forts, one at 
Lake Erie (Presq' Isle, now Erie, Pa.,) and another on French Creek 
(where Waterford, Pa., now stands.)" 

All this was important news to Washington, and after a few days of 
ceremonious delays, he set out for the French Fort at Venango, situate 
on the Allegheny at the mouth of French Creek, in company with the 
Half King, Jeskakake, an old and prominent chief, White Thunder 
and the Hunter (who after became celebrated by the name of Guyasu- 
tha and fought the bloody battle of Bushy Run with Col. Bouquet.) 

After much very fatiguing travel they arrived at Venango on the 4th 
of December, and found the French colors hoisted on the house from 
which Frazier had been ejected. One of the three officers, Captain 
Joncaire, famed for his influence among the Indians and his skillful, pol- 
itic manner of first winning and then managing them, received Wash- 
ington very politely, but told him he would have to travel further to 
the fort on French Creek, where there was a superior officer. The 
French officers later in the day drank copiously, which unloosed their 
tongues so as to talk freely of French designs. They asserted boldly 
that it was their absolute design to take possession of the Ohio and by 
G — d they would do' it, for although they knew that the English could 
raise two men for their one, yet that their motions were too slow and 
dilatory to prevent any French undertaking. They claimed the whole 
country watered by the Mississippi and its tributaries, and they were 
determined to occupy it all the very next Spring and thus prevent the 



20 Our Western Border. 

English settling on the Ohio. Washington further found, by skillful 
" pumping," that there were then about seven hundred French west of 
Lake Ontario, scattered in a number of newly-erected forts. 

The French now privately coaxed the Major's redskin escort among 
them, and so liberally plied them with liquor that notwithstanding all 
his warnings they became quite drunk, but the Half King happily re- 
mained firm and constant, and the next day offered Joncaire a belt, 
(which that wily and politic officer refused to receive,) and warned the 
French off of the Indian soil. Every stratagem was used to prevent 
the chiefs from going on with Washington, but in vain, for they finally 
set off for the French Creek fort, which, on account of excessive rains, 
snows and frequent swamps, they did not reach until the nth. The 
commander was an elderly soldierly gentleman, a Knight of St. Louis, 
and named Legardeur de St. Pierre. He received Washington very 
courteously, read Dinwiddie's letter, and he with his brother officers 
retired to consult as to what answer should be sent it. 

Meanwhile the Major used his eyes busily, jotting down the minutest 
particular and finding in fifty birch and one hundred and seventy-five pine 
canoes drawn up along the beach, a startling confirmation of Joncaire's 
boast that a fort was to be built, as soon as Spring opened, at the Forks 
of the Ohio. The one-eyed Knight of St. Louis, too, had boldly laid 
claim to all the territory as far east as the Allegheny mountains. 

With the important news he had gathered, Washington hastened 
down the creek by canoe, reaching Joncaire again on December 2 2d. 
Here the horses were found so weak and the baggage so heavy, that 
they were given up, and after going with them three days, Washington 
and Gist, guns in hand and packs on back, started through the woods 
on foot, piloted by a bad and treacherous Indian guide. The very 
next day a party of French Indians lay in wait for them, and one of 
them, writes Washington, in his journal, " fired at Mr. Gist or me, not 
fifteen steps off, but fortunately missed. We took this fellow into cus- 
tody, and kept him until about nine o'clock at night, then let him go, 
and walked all the remaining part of the night without making any 
stop. The next day we continued traveling until quite dark, and got to 
the Allegheny about two miles from Shannopins. We expected to have 
found the river frozen, but it was not, only about fifty yards from each 
shore. The ice, I suppose, had broken up above, for it was driving in 
vast quantities." 

Washington Hurled into the River and Shot at by a Savage. 

" There was no way for getting over," continues the Major's journal, 
" but on a raft, which we set about with but one poor hatchet, and fin- 



Washington Hurled into the River and Shot at. 21 

ished just after sunsetting. This was a whole day's work ! We next 
got it launched, then went on board of it and set off, but before we 
were half way over, we were jammed in the ice in such a manner that 
we expected every moment our raft to sink, and ourselves to perish. I 
put out my setting pole to try and stop the raft that the ice might pass 
by, when the rapidity of the stream threw it with so much violence 
against the pole, that it jerked me out into ten feet of water ; but I for- 
tunately saved myself by catching hold of one of the raft logs. 

''Notwithstanding all our efforts, we could not get to either shore, 
but were obliged, as we were near an island, to quit our raft and make 
to it. The cold was so extremely severe that Mr. Gist had all his fin- 
gers and some of his toes frozen; and the water was shut up so hard 
that we found no difficulty in getting off the island on the ice in the 
morning, and went to Mr. Frazier's. As we intended to take horses 
here, and it required some time to find them, I went up about three 
miles to the mouth of the Youghiogheny to visit Queen Alaquippa, who 
had expressed great concern that we passed her in going to the fort. I 
made her a present of a match-coat and a bottle of rum, which latter 
was thought much the better present of the two." 

This island was Wainwright's Island, now almost completely destroyed, 
but which lay near Herr's, and is about three miles above the Ohio 
forks. The former island lay near the eastern bank, and that branch of 
the river might well freeze over in a night, but the wide channel be- 
tween Herr's Island and Shannopins could scarcely so easily freeze over. 
Now, Gist also kept a journal on this memorable expedition. His ac- 
count of the attempt by the Indian guide at murder is so very credita- 
ble to Washington's kind and humane heart that we will quote the pas- 
sage at length: 

"We rose early in the morning, and set out about two o'clock, and 
got to Murderingtown, on the south-east fork of Beaver Creek. Here 
we met an Indian whom I thought I had seen at Joncaire's. This fel- 
low called me by my Indian name and pretended to be glad to see me. 
I thought very ill of the fellow, but did not care to let the Major know 
I mistrusted him. But he soon mistrusted him as much as I did. The 
Indian said he could hear a gun from his cabin, and steered us more 
northwardly. We grew uneasy, and then he said two whoops might be 
heard from his cabin. We went two miles further. Then the Major 
said he would stay at the next water, and we desired the Indian to stop 
at the next water. We came to water; we came to a clear meadow. 
It was very light, and snow was on the ground. 

"The Indian made a stop, and turned about. The Major saw him 
point his gun towards us and he fired. Said the Major, 'Are you shot?' 



22 Our Western Border. 

1 No ! ' said I ; upon which the Indian ran forward to a big standing 
white oak, and began loading his gun, but we were soon with him. 1 
would have killed him, hit the Major would not suffer me. We let him 
charge his gun; we found he put in ball; then we took care of him; 
either the Major or I always stood by the guns. We made him make a 
fire for us by a little run, as if we intended to sleep there. I said to 
the Major, 'As you will not have him killed, we must get him away, 
and then we must travel all night;' upon which I said to the Indian: 
4 1 suppose you were lost, and fired your gun.' He said he knew the 
way to his cabin, and it was but a little way. 'Well,' said I, 'do you 
go home, and as we are tired, we will follow your track in the morning; 
and here is a cake of bread for you, and you must give us meal for it 
in the morning.' He was glad to get away. I followed him and lis- 
tened until he was fairly out of the way, and then we went about half 
a mile, when we made a fire, set our compass, fixed our course, and 
traveled all night. In the morning we were at the head of Piny Creek." 
All doubts as to French claims and intentions were removed by Wash- 
ington's important visit. In order to arouse the Colonies and Britain, 
Governor Dinwiddie had the Major's journal published far and wide, 
and reprinted in England, which led to very important and immediate 
action, since it was the first positive intelligence of the views and de- 
signs of the French. Instant steps were taken by Dinwiddie to send 
troops to the Ohio forks, which were at that time supposed by him to 
belong to his province. One company, under command of Captain 
Trent, was soon ready, and early in April Ensign Ward reached the 
forks, and commenced work on a rude fortification. They had made 
but little progress, however, before a French-Indian force of a thousand 
men, with eighteen cannon, suddenly made their appearance on the Al- 
legheny, in sixty batteaux and three hundred canoes, and an immediate 
summons to surrender their works was made on Ward by Contrecceur. 
Tannacharison, the Half King, who was present with Ward, in order to 
gain time, shrewdly urged him to reply that he had no authority to sur- 
render but would send for orders. To this, of course, the French leader 
would not listen, but gave just one hour to retire, which poor Ward was 
compelled to do. The French then landed and built there a fort, first 
giving it the name of "The Assumption of the Holy Virgin," after- 
wards changing it to Fort Duquesne, in honor of the Marquis Duquesne, 
the then French Governor of Canada; and this little affair has always 
been considered as the commencement of that long and memorable 
"seven years' war," only terminated by the Treaty of Paris, and by 
which France ceded to England all Canada and almost the whole terri- 
tory east of the Mississippi, 



Washington's First Campaign. 23 

Washington's First Campaign — Surrender of Fort Necessity. 

Washington immediately sent expresses to the Governors of Pennsyl- 
vania, Maryland and Virginia, acquainting them with the forced sur- 
render of Ward's company and the erection of a fort in what was then 
clearly considered to be part of Virginia. He himself proceeded — as 
soon as he could gather the force — at the head of three companies, to 
the Monongahela, at the point now occupied by Brownsville, Pa. He 
soon received a message from his old friend Tannacharison, the Half 
King, that the French from Fort Duquesne were marching against him. 
Next day Col. Gist, who had formed a frontier settlement near where 
Uniontown, Pa., now stands, joined him with the startling news that a 
French force of fifty men had been at his place the day before. Close 
on the heels of these tidings arrived another message from the Half 
King, who was then encamped with his warriors some six miles distant, 
with information that the French had encamped near him, and urging 
Washington to "strike" them. 

Washington immediately started with forty men to join his faithful 
ally. The night was pitch dark ; the rain fell in torrents ; the woods 
were pathless and tangled with undergrowth, and the soldiers often lost 
their way groping through the matted bushes and clambering over logs 
and rocks, but at length they arrived at the Indian camp just before sun- 
rise, May 28, 1754. 

A council' with the Red Chief was held at once, and a joint attack on 
the French was resolved upon. Two Indian spies discovered the 
enemies' position in an obscure place surrounded by rocks and about a 
half mile from the main trail. Washington was to advance on the 
right, the Half King on the left. They all then stealthily approached 
in single file until discovered by the French, who flew to arms. The 
action commenced by a sharp firing on both sides, but in a very brief 
time the French had succumbed, with the loss of Monsieur Jumonville, 
their commandant, and ten of his men. Twenty-two were taken 
prisoner and sent off to Dinwiddie. 

This was the very first "baptism of blood" received by Washington, 
and the affair was afterwards misrepresented, greatly to his injury. It 
was also the first overt act in a long war which had not yet been 
declared, but which for many years after deluged all Europe in blood. 

The news of this fateful action stirred up a tremendous hubbub, not 
only in the American Colonies, but in England and France. War had 
not yet been generally declared, and it was the policy of each govern- 
ment to throw the blame of commencing hostilities on the other party. 
It was Qfhcialiy charged by France that Jumonville was leading an 



24 Our Western Border. 

embassy of peace, and that while conveying a civil summons to Wash- 
ington, asserting the French claim to all the country watered by the 
Ohio and its tributaries, and requesting the English forces to retire, he 
was waylaid and assassinated. Unfortunately some color was given to 
this charge of assassination against Washington afterwards in the 
articles of capitulation at Fort Necessity, when the word assassination 
instead of killing was, through the stupid blundering of Van Braam, 
the interpreter, allowed to stand, making it appear as if Washington 
confessed the base charge. 

The whole affair has been carefully examined and discussed by 
English and American historians, and, without entering into the de- 
tailed pros and cons of the controversy, we need only state that the 
result was a complete and triumphant vindication of Washington. 

Among the prisoners taken by Washington was a Mr. La Force, who 
was known throughout the whole western country as an uncommonly 
bold and enterprising leader of great subtlety and exercising a potent 
sway among the Indians. 

As Washington knew that the news of this successful assault upon 
Jumonville would draw on him an attack in overwhelming force from 
Fort Duquesne, he set his troops at once to prepare an entrenched work 
at the Great Meadows, which he named Fort Necessity. The Half King, 
Queen Alaquippa and their friendly Indians began to flock in, and Cap- 
tain Mackay with a South Carolina company joined him most oppor- 
tunely. Shortly after a company of nine deserters from Fort Duquesne 
arrived with the startling tidings that the French, Dy their artful wiles 
and bountiful presents, had induced the warlike tribes of Delawares and 
Shawnees to " dig up the hatchet " against the English and would soon 
appear in force. 

Shortly after friendly Indians brought the news that the French at 
the forks had been heavily reinforced from Canada, and were prepar- 
ing to march against him and drive him out of the country. Washing- 
ton, for many reasons not needful here to enumerate, resolved to abide 
the issue at Fort Necessity, situated near the Laurel Hill and about 
fifty miles west of Cumberland, Md. Trees were felled, breast-works 
were strengthened, and all put in the best possible state of defence. 

On the 3d of July, the enemy "put in an appearance." Washing- 
ton had drawn up his men on the flat outside of the trenches, but find- 
ing the foe in superior force and that they refused an open encounter, 
but were using all their arts to circumvent him, he retired his men 
and gave them permission to fire at discretion. A brisk fire was main- 
tained all day by an enemy that never dared to emerge from the 
sheltering cover of the woods. An untimely rain filled the trenches 



Washington's First Campaign. 25 

with water, the provisions and ammunition were exhausted, and many 
of the miserable, worthless arms of the soldiers were out of order ; so 
that, when a very civil summons for a parley came from the French 
leader, M. de Villiers, a brother of Jumonville, Washington was ready 
to negotiate. 

The result was a capitulation under very favorable terms, the whole 
garrison being allowed to retire to the east, taking all their effects with 
them except their artillery, and to march out of the fort with the hon- 
ors of war, their drums beating and colors flying. Washington agreed 
on his part, to restore the prisoners who had been taken at the late 
skirmish with Jumonville, and as a surety for this article, Captain Van 
Braam and Major Robert Stobo, (of the latter of whom we shall speed- 
ily say more and nothing to his discredit,) were delivered to the French 
as hostages. It was moreover agreed that the English should not at- 
tempt to build any more establishments west of the mountains for the 
space of one year. 

Washington accordingly marched forth next day, but had gone but a 
short distance when a large body of hostile French Indians surrounded 
them and could hardly be restrained from an attack. They pilfered the 
baggage and did other mischief. Washington finally, after being com- 
pelled to leave much baggage behind, reached Wills Creek in safety. 
Much dissatisfaction, however, prevailed in the colonies where the terms 
of this capitulation were published. The war spirit against these overt 
acts of the French was rising to fever heat. The truth is that Wash- 
ington had been grossly deceived by the interpreter, Van Braam, either 
through his ignorance or his design. He was a Dutchman and it is 
probable erred through his ignorance of the French language. Be this 
as it may, the Virginia House of Burgesses approved Washington's cam- 
paign and he was accorded a vote of thanks. It was ever a matter of 
mortification to him, however, that Dinwiddie refused to ratify that ar- 
ticle of the capitulation regarding the return of the French prisoners 
who instead were sent to England. Thus it happened that Major Robert 
Stobo, the hostage given to the French for their return, was for many 
years kept in confinement, and had a series of remarkable adventures 
which we shall now proceed to relate. 



26 Our Western Border. 



REMARKABLE ADVENTURES OF MAJOR ROBERT STOBO. 

This gallant and indomitable Scotchman had 'scarce arrived at Fort 
Duquesne before he began casting about how he should put it into the 
hands of the English. With a boldness that while it challenges admira- 
tion, yet savors much of rashness, he entrusted to the hands of friendly- 
Indians, two highly interesting letters, signed openly with his own 
name. Had his messengers proved faithless, Stobo's life would at once 
have paid the forfeit, but the brave Major, as we shall speedily find, was 
a patriot of the true metal and perfectly willing to take all conse- 
quences. 

These letters contained a very accurate plan of the fort ; an account 
of the amount and disposition of the forces ; gave much news of the 
savages and of the artful lies which the French had employed to make 
them hostile to their old friends, the English, and furnished many valu- 
able hints as to how the fort could be easily taken, and urged upon 
Washington to immediately make an advance and capture it. . 

They also contained such expressions as these: "If this news is 
true," (alluding to some Indian defection), ' ' it will make our return very 
hazardous, but that is not to be considered." "La Force," (the French 
leader captured by Washington), "is greatly wanted here. No scouting 
now — he certainly must have been an extraordinary man among them, 
he is so much regretted and wished for." "When we engaged to serve 
the country, it was expected we were to do it with our lives. Let the 
country not be disappointed. Consider the good of the expedition 
without the least regard to us. For my part I would die a thousand 
deaths to have the pleasure of possessing this fort but for one day. 
They are so vain of their success at the Meadows, it is worse than death 
to hear them." "Strike this Fall as soon as possible. Make the In- 
dians ours. Prevent intelligence. Get the best, and 'tis done. One 
hundred trusty Indians might surprise the fort." "The French manage 
the Indians with the greatest artifice. La Force is greatly missed here. 
Let the good of the expedition be considered preferable to our safety. 
Haste to strike.'" 

The whole spirit breathing through these letters was so bold, manly 
and self-sacrificing, that the Pittsburgh historian, Neville B. Craig, made 
repeated efforts to learn more about the gallant Major. The informa 
tion he gathered was of the most meagre description. Later, he hap 
pened to be rummaging over an old book, and the, first words thai 
caught his eye were "Captain Stobo," which were included in a letter 



Adventures of Major Robert Stobo. 27 

from one English historian to another — David Hume to Tobias Smollet. 
It ran thus: "I did not see your friend, Captain Stobo, till the day be- 
fore I left Civencester, and then only for a little time, but he seemed to 
be a man of good sense, and has surely had the most extraordinary ad- 
ventures in the world." 

All this only increased Craig's zeal and curiosity to know something 
more of the mysterious Stobo, and, in answer to a public call for in- 
formation, he was fortunate enough to obtain from the British Museum 
a manuscript copy of the "Memoirs of Major Robert Stobo," which 
he republished in Pittsburgh about twenty years ago". 

From these memoirs, written in a quaint, old-fashioned style, we learn 
that Robert Stobo was born at Glasgow, Scotland, in 1727, and was of 
a very delicate constitution. He received a good education, but early 
betrayed a love for arms, employing his play -hours in a constant drum- 
beating and drilling his comrades. Losing his excellent parents, his 
friends determined to carry out his own wishes of emigrating to Vir- 
ginia, in order to serve in a store there, owned by Glasgow merchants. 

He soon began business for himself, returning to Glasgow in '47, 
converting all his property into ready money and merchandise, and re- 
turning to America, where his natural goodness of disposition, joined 
with a turn for gaiety and social pleasure, made his acquaintance much 
courted by the best people of the province. He kept open house and 
dispensed his hospitality with such a free and liberal hand, that when 
his friend, Gov. Dinwiddie, was raising a regiment to oppose French 
aggression in the Ohio Valley, he was glad to receive the commission of 
captain. For this campaign he provided with his usual munificence, 
hiring ten servants, furnishing himself with a covered wagon, keeping 
a bountiful table, well garnished with game and wine, which was open 
to all his brave officers. He soon became a great favorite with the regi- 
ment, and displayed military talents of no mean order. He it was who 
planned and erected Fort Necessity, the capitulation of which brought 
him to Fort Duquesne as an hostage. 

His bold letters from that fort have been already referred to. They 
had a curious fate, and in the end worked much damage to the writer. 
The letters came safely to Washington's hands, were forwarded to Gov. 
Dinwiddie, went into possession of Gen. Braddock when making his 
expedition against Fort Duquesne, and then fell into possession of the 
enemy, having been left behind with the rest of Braddock's baggage 
after the disastrous defeat of that general at Braddocks Fields. 

When the French found that La Force and the other prisoners were 
not to be returned according to the terms of the Fort Necessity capitu- 
lation, Stobo and Van Braam were removed, in September, 1754; from 



28 Our Western Border. 

one French fort to another, till at last they reached Quebec. They, 
however, were treated with great kindness and liberality. Stobo 
having, on account of his free, jovial manners, been admitted to the 
society of the French officers, thought it necessary to study French, in 
which pleasant occupation he was greatly assisted by several French 
ladies, who taught him how to talk and pronounce and made much of 
him generally. In fact no company was thought complete unless the 
gallant and accomplished Monsieur Stobo made one of it. He, at the 
same time, became very popular among the French Indians, studying 
their language, customs, sports, &c, and was so much esteemed by 
them that the honor of the Mississaga Indian nation was conferred upon 
him, the ceremony of his adoption into the tribe having been pricked 
by means of sharp fish bones and indelible juices into his two thighs 
immediately above his garters. "Setting aside," says his biographer, 
' ' the gentleness of his manners, there was something in his appearance 
very engaging; he was nearly six feet tall, of a dark brown complexion, 
had a penetrating eye, an aquiline nose, round face, a good cheerful 
countenance, a very genteel person, rather slender than robust, and 
was graceful in his whole deportment." 

But a sudden change was all at once to come over his fortunes. 
When the Braddock papers came to be published in France, his two 
famous letters, with his own name attached, came into notoriety, and 
he was by the press denounced as a dangerous spy. The French 
officers now began to look frowningly at him, but he still managed to 
preserve his credit among his many lady friends. It was now con- 
cluded to treat him with rigor as a suspect. He was clapped into 
prison and used with great harshness. Next came an order from 
France to the Governor of Canada to try him for his life as a spy. 

Some time in '56 he effected his escape from prison, but a' reward of 
6,000 livres, offered to any who would bring him in alive or dead, 
filled the woods with thousands of eager persons, and he was soon 
caught and thrust into a black, horrible dungeon. He found nothing 
but cold stone to sit or lie on, and on the floor was daily placed an 
earthen pan with nothing but bread and water for his sustenance. In 
this damp, dark, dreary, dismal, doleful, damnable dungeon his eyes 
soon acquired such a power that they could discern a rat running over 
the floor, and it may be added that they received much exercise in that 
line. 

In November our hero was brought before the military court, 
arraigned for breach of faith and violating the laws of nations. His 
condemnation was a foregone conclusion. The vote was put, and hang 
he must by general voice. The day was fixed, and he was remanded 



Adventures of Major Robert Stobo. 29 

back to prison. But his indomitable heart was yet unshaken, and he 
busied himself meditating over plans of escape. The judgment of the 
court, however, was not approved by King Louis, and the dungeon 
was changed for a jail, with two vigilant sentinels at the door and two 
below the one window, but for tuna favet fortibus. They could not 
hold a man of his daring spirit. 

Many were his plans of escape. The window offered him the best 
chance. He found it firmly barred with iron up and down, but not 
across. He must cut a groove in the hard stone, so as to throw one of 
the bars aside. He had but a sorry knife, round at the point, and as it 
would imperil all to make a noise, his business must be done by careful, 
silent rubbing. The work went slowly on. Meanwhile he must gather 
provisions for his long journey. He managed to secrete a sort of a 
knapsack, and on the stove he parched grain to carry with him. His 
room was always open to his jailers, and he had to fill the groove as 
fast as he made it by stuffing it with chewed bread, which was then 
covered with sand or ashes. 

Sometimes the grating noise would bring in the jailer, but the groove 
was so neatly, concealed and the Major was generally found sitting so 
calmly, walking, smoking or reading, that, after peering around the 
room with jealous eye, the jailer was fain to depart with shaking head. 

At length the groove was done ; the bar had room to play, but being 
short and fast at top, the Major could not bend it. Tying his handker- 
chief around the two bars, he inserted a stick and by twisting it about 
had leverage enough to bring the bars together. The knapsack was 
now stored with over thirty pounds of various kinds of provisions which 
he had managed to secrete, and all was ready for the escape. 

The 30th of April was a horrible day from wind, rain and hail. The 
night was no better. The sleepy sentries, suspecting naught, sought 
favorable shelter from the wretched weather. Stobo's eyes were on 
guard and soon as he saw the parts deserted he knew his time had come. 
Hurriedly tying about him his knapsack and applying the handkerchief 
tourniquet, a passage was soon opened and down he jumped into the 
mud below, and is off like a shot. Soaked with rain, buffeted by the 
wind, straight on he flies, certain of his way. Far above the town he 
took refuge in a farmer's outhouse and anxiously awaited the chance for 
escape. 

His flight was at once detected ; again 6.000 livres were offered for 
his arrest, and out set the whole town in search. For two days, know- 
ing that many would be seeking him, the Major lay snug. At midnight 
he stealthily stole out and made straight for Charles river, crossed it with 
knapsack on his head, the water coming up to his chin. Now he gains 



30 Our Western Border. 

the friendly covert of the woods, where he remained the next day ; to- 
wards evening he edges down the river, hoping to secure a canoe 
wherewith to cross the St. Lawrence. He wandered on and on until he 
had got below (lie Falls of Montmorenci, eight miles below Quebec, 
when just as he had set foot on the great road, he spied some gentlemen 
riding towards him, who unfortunately were just as quick in spying him 
and made hard after him. He was caught and dragged back to 
prison. 

Who can imagine the sad, gloomy thoughts of the poor prisoner! 
That can his biographer, who thus quaintly laments this sad relapse 
into captivity : "111 used before, better could not be hoped for; he sick- 
ens at the thought of his sad fate ; a dreary while for him to linger out 
in sad despondency, well barred and bolted in with treble vigilance. 
A long, long Summer and. a dismal Winter were to come, and these, 
for what he knew, might be repeated, if life so long wouM stay. He 
could not stand the thought ; his spirits failed him ; his looks grew pale ; 
corroding, pensive thought sat brooding on his forehead, and left it all 
in wrinkles ; his long, black hair grows like a badger grey ; his body to 
a. shadow wastes, and ere the Winter came with her keen edge of har- 
dened cold, his health was gone ; yet he must struggle still with the re- 
maining span of life, for out he must not come and he's given up for 
dead. There dwelt by lucky fate in this strong capital, a lady fair of 
chaste renown ; of manners sweet and gentle soul ; long had her heart 
confessed for this poor prisoner a flame, best suited with the spirit of the 
times to smother, whose tender heart felt double smart at this his deep 
affliction which threatened certain death; her kindred was confessed 
and influence, too, well known with Vaudreuil and, strange speech of 
love, thus she accosts the proud Canadian Vice Roy," &c. 

We need not give this tender love song, but the burden of it was an 
urgent appeal to change the Major's prison and give him exercise and 
good air, and so a chance for his life. The prayer prevailed. The wan 
and wasted prisoner was allowed to walk the ramparts. By the care of 
this kind lady and her daughter, the Major's health recovers by degrees, 
and he became very watchful and studious to disarm all suspicion. The 
months passed on and Stobo made the acquaintance of some English 
prisoners brought in — among others a Scotchman, by the name of 
Clarke, a ship carpenter by trade, who, by a facile and timely change of 
religion, was released and w r as soon employed at work in the shipyard. 
With this man and another prisoner by name of Stevenson, he concocts 
a new scheme. In order to dismiss his kind lady attendant, he feigned 
illness. Instead of going to bed, however, he dressed in a plain coarse 
workman's dress he had provided; incased his head in a thick worsted 



Major Stobo's Escape from Quebec. 31 

wig and quietly stole down the stairs, past the rooms of the family that 
had been so kind to him, out into the garden, and leaped the wall. 

No sooner out of town than he quickened his pace and made his way 
to a little windmill on the river, which was fixed as the rendezvous for 
the whole escaping party. He found them all there, with guns, ammuni- 
tion and provisions. March was the word, and Stobo, as leader of this 
gallant little band of five, moved along the river for a couple of miles 
in hope to find some vessel by which to escape. 

Major Stobo's Escape from Quebec and Daring Adventures. 

At length they came across a large birch canoe, which they carried to 
the water, and all safely embarked. With nimble hands they plied the 
paddles, and flew down the strong current of the St. Lawrence. By 
daylight Quebec was left far behind, and they sought the protection of 
the woods, carrying their canoe with them. As before, the Major's 
flight was early discovered. The whole house was in a terrible uproar. 
The Governor hears of it. and is moved to a terrible wrath. The old 
reward is offered, and thousands ransack the woods for the fugitives. 

This time in vain ! The little party lay by quietly all day, but soon 
as night came on they launch again their frail bark upon the current, 
and paddle away like all possessed. By daylight they were, with their 
staunch canoe, in the woods again. This was their life for ten long 
days and chilling nights, until they had gotten a long distance below the 
city, and the river had grown as broad as a firth. Latterly they had 
taken the risk of hunting game, and encamped by day in order to save 
their stock of provisions, which was getting low. 

On the eleventh night they paddled out into the middle of the broad 
river, but soon encountered a violent storm. The waves broke over 
them. The canoe filled with water, and they tried in vain to make the 
shore, but passed the night, tossed like a cork upon the waters, and only 
saved from wreck by unintermitting bailing. A piercing cold now set 
in, freezing their drenched clothes to their backs. By morning they suc- 
ceeded in again reaching shore, but in a most sorry plight. Their fro- 
zen garments rattled like coats of mail; scarce one could lift a limb, 
and a mother and children, who formed part of their crew, were almost 
dead. The steel and flint were found wherewith to build a fire, but the 
tinder was too wet to catch. 

At length the poor mother sought in her bosom and found a dry rag ; 
a fire was built, and a couple of days more are spent drying and thaw- 
ing out. The boat was again trusted to the waves, and by morning had 
reached a little bay, on whose shores they debarked, the two marksmen 
going out for game. They soon ran back, frightened by the appearance 



32 Our Western Border. 

of two armed savages. Stobo reassured them, and demanded to be led 
to a sight of them, thinking that if they were scouts for a larger party, 
it might be necessary to cut them off. They soon came upon the two 
unsuspecting savages, when Stobo broke out into a French cantata, and 
saluting the savages in French, seized the gun of one, while Stevenson 
grappled him and Clarke the other. Stobo then said they were French- 
men, but in search of English prisoners who had escaped, and that he 
must be sure who they were. They were much alarmed, and offered to 
lead the way to their tent and to the fire, of which they were the guar- 
dians, so that the whole country might be alarmed at the advance up 
the river of any hostile British fleet. These fires, they said, were placed 
at regular distances from the mouth of the St. Lawrence to Quebec, so 
that news could be speedily carried of any hostile invasion. 

The wigwam was found full of furs, wild duck and maple sugar, and 
the Major's party began to rifle 'it. The Indians now realized their mis- 
take, and the one Stevenson held gave a backward spring and set up a 
dreadful yell. To prevent any further noise, Stevenson had to shoot 
his man, and his comrade was soon made to share his fate. The camp 
again reached, Stobo thought it was imprudent to leave the bodies un- 
buried, and sent back Clarke and another to inter them, which they did 
by fastening a heavy stone to the feet of each, and, having carefully re- 
moved the scalps, shoving them into a deep, black pool of water. Their 
poor, faithful dog, which sat howling on the margin of the pool, was 
also shot. 

I They now saw out in the river a fleet of French transports, with a 
convoy, ferrying their slow way up to Quebec. One ship in the rear, 
judged, by her size, to be the commodore of the fleet, was lying to. 
Stobo concluded that she had seen their smoke and had sent her boat 
ashore to learn the meaning of it. The fire, therefore, was put out, and 
the canoe and baggage moved off into the woods, and then a round- 
about course taken to the river again. They now espied a large four- 
oared batteau rowing for the shore and no ship in view. "Courage, 
my lads!" cried the fearless Stobo. "I hope, by your assistance and 
God's blessing on our arms, this prize shall be our own ; these men our 
prisoners, too, and they shall lessen your fatigue and row for us; ob- 
serve but what I order, and leave the rest to me." 

Stobo's party now lay closely concealed among some rocks while the 
boat's crew pulled briskly in. Scarce had the prow bumped the beach 
when a volley was sent in among them, by which two were wounded. 
The astonished Frenchmen at once cried out for quarter. The Major 
and his companions rushed down from the rocks and ordered out the 
whole five. A reverend old gentleman, who was steering, stepped out 



Major Stobo's Escape from Quebec. 33 

with a polite bow of submission, and very naturally asked whose pris- 
oner he was. To this the Major answered in French: "We are British 
subjects, and, by the fortune of the war which now does rage betwixt 
that country's mighty King and France, we have been prisoners in Can- 
ada, but now," &c, telling them that they and their boat must aid their 
escape. To this the old Frenchman said he had been a long distance 
down the river, and was returning with his boat laden with wheat ; that 
he was the Chevalier La Darante, and sole owner of the Camaraski 
Isles, the first gentlemen of them all doing him vassalage; that the best 
blood of Canada ran in his veins, as he was kin to the great Duke de 
Mirepoix and other prominent French nobles, and that, in addition to 
all this, he was old and feeble, and therefore should well be excused 
from being compelled to row his enemies. 

To all which, in brief, the Major answered that self-preservation was 
the first law of nature, and that if he were King Louis himself, and 
each of his crew a peer of the realm, he would have to row now British 
subjects. This ended the matter. As the shallop was too deep-laden 
for expedition, much of the wheat was cast out, and, all hands em- 
barking, the boat left the shore, the faithful canoe dragging astern. 
Thus doubly manned, they could relieve the oars as well as attend the 
sail, which was now set to a favoring gale, and away they sped again 
down the St. Lawrence. Finding the canoe impeding the shallop's 
speed, it was cut loose and turned adrift. 

To lie by in the day was now impossible, neither did the Major like 
much to trust his prisoners ashore. About noon they noted a lofty 
frigate, which had been convoy to the fleet of transports. This 
sudden and dreadful apparition gave no small alarm, but since they 
could not stand a fight, a run was resolved upon. So the Major took 
the tiller and swore that the first man who offered to impede the boat's 
way should die in the instant, and ordered all to pull hard and to 
spread the sail, so as to pass the frigate's stern. 

The usual signal to heave to came from the frigate, but our party 
paid it no attention ; a second followed, which was likewise disre- 
garded. The third report came accompanied by a shot which whizzed 
over their heads, uncomfortably near. Then followed shot after shot, 
as long as the boat was in sight. Rejoicing at their lucky escape, the 
boat flew along, continuing on its course all night. The old Cheva- 
lier's remonstrance as to the hardships and indignities he was com- 
pelled to undergo, passed unheeded. "II est fortune de guerre, Mon- 
sieur," was all the reply vouchsafed by the Major. 

Days sped on. Capes, islands and mountains were passed, one by 
one. but fortunately no sail was met. At length a boat was found 
3 



34 Our Western Border. 

upon the beach, when Stobo promised to the Chevalier that he would 
let him go if he would promise for him and his party that he would 
keep secret what had transpired till the Camaraski Isles should be 
passed ; after that he did not care. The Chevalier readily promised. 
" Then, Monsieur," replied the Major, loftily, " your mast and sail are 
ours. Our case is desperate, but I'll pay you for them. Here, too, is 
money for your lost wheat. Go tell all Canada how good the British 
monarch is ! One only favor I ask. When you reach Quebec, pray 
wait on the Commandant with Monsieur Stobo's compliments, and let 
him know you saw him thus far on the St. Lawrence." 

All things being ready, the two parties took separate ways. Stobo's 
boat continued along all night. With the morning they espied abreast 
of them a ship at anchor and heard the signal to heave to. This they 
declined, when a swivel, loaded with grape, opened fire and after that 
another, completely riddling their sail but doing no further damage. 
On they pushed all that day and the next, but after that they were not 
quite so fortunate. Towards evening a dreadful storm arose. At the 
point they now were, the St. Lawrence was very broad and the waves 
ran as high as upon the ocean, while the surf was quite as loud and 
dangerous. To beach the boat, however, is the only salvation for them, 
and straight to shore they let her drive. Near the shore, she came upon 
a rock with a dreadful shock, bursting open the boat's bows and filling 
her with water. The waves break over them and all hands, taking with 
them what they could, make for shore. The boat was completely de- 
molished. Soaking as they were, a wet and dreary night was passed. 

Next morning a sober council was held. All other methods of es- 
cape except by water are declared impossible, and so the boat's wreck 
is hauled ashore, and all, under the direction of Clarke the ship carpen- 
ter, set to work to make it sea-worthy again. With wistful search they 
scan the shore for nails, pieces of board and what not to piece the old 
hulk up. Some eight days are spent in this tedious and disheartening 
work, and the stock of provisions was, too, getting fearfully low. At 
length the boat was ready for the first pitch and oakum, carefully 
gathered from sticks found along many miles of shore. Stockings, 
handkerchiefs and other articles of dress were used to stuff the joints, and 
at last the frail cutter was ready for launching. 

Just as this interesting ceremony was about to be performed, two sails 
are seen standing down the river, and finally their anchors are dropped 
right off the point where the crazy vessel sat upon the stocks. Here 
was a strange dilemma ! All labor stops at once ! Down squat the 
men ! The sails of the strange vessels are all pulled down, in prepara- 
tion for riding out the flood tide. 



Major Stobo Captures two Ships. 35 

Major Stobo Captures two Ships with all on Board. 

At this crisis, a daring and desperate idea enters Stobo's pate. They 
were in. a terrible strait. Starvation on the one hand; renewed slavery 
on the other. ''Here are two enemy's vessels," he said, "and by 
their distance one may be attacked ; nor by their mean appearance 
should I think them freight with men or arms ; more like some country 
vessels and so I'll wish and hope and think ; and now, could I divide the 
force of either and calmly, under cloud of night, steal on her by sur- 
prise, then might I hope success. The very thought elates my soul. By 
jove, she's mine ! This next is the smallest of the two ; on her the pro- 
ject shall immediately be tried." 

A council is called; all hear with wonder, and promise to assist. 
Stobo orders them not to stir, but to keep close to the ground, while he 
should give a signal. Cutting a long stick he fastens thereon his hand- 
kerchief, and with it in one hand and a musket in the other, he coolly 
marches to the water's edge and fires his gun and waves his extemporized 
flag. The sun was just setting. His signal is seen from the ship. A 
boat is observed dropping over the side and two men and a boy came 
rowing to the shore where the redoubtable Major stands ready to re- 
ceive them. 

Approaching near they yet warily stand off and ask what he wants. 
Stobo answers in pretty good French that he was on the king's errand, 
(" under which King, Benzonian? speak or die ! ") and now he wants a 
passage down the river, for which he would willingly pay liberally. 
The night was cold and he had a bottle of rum which they were wel- 
come to if they would fetch it, &c. The boat is driven to shore and 
hauled upon the beach, and while guzzling down the rum, violent 
hands are laid upon them, and the three are taken and bound. 

All is fair in war, thinks Major Stobo, and he tells his astounded vic- 
tims that they are in British hands subject to death, but " look here, my 
lads ! you yet may live, if you faithfully declare what hands you left 
on board and what their arms." They are examined separately and all 
agree. The boy consents to pilot them aboard, as the Major thought 
his well-known voice might answer unpleasant questions and disarm all 
suspicion. 

It was now darkest night. The two prisoners were bound each to a 
tree and the one woman, with drawn tomahawk, left to guard them. 
The patched-up vessel is then taken off the stocks and launched, the 
ship's boat being considered too small to carry six. She leaks badly, it 
is true, but she'll doubtless last to reach the ship. While two row, two 
more are kept busy bailing, and to this there was no let up. " Off 



36 Our Western Border. 

they go, and rowing softly on with silent stroke, came alongside the 
ship. A light there's in the binnacle, but ne'er a watch on deck ; 
they're all hands down ; the sloop rode fair ; her buoy was clear ahead, 
the weather moderate and some turn in to sleep, for yet 'twas not half 
flood. The rest, at ease, enjoy themselves below." 

" Our hero first gets up the side, and as he softly stepped up on the 
deck, the trusty pistol, which in his belt was stuck, catches the ratlins 
of the shrouds which pulls it out, and it comes clatter on the deck. 
This gave the alarm, but woe to him who first came up ! So soon as he 
had shown his face at the companion door and bounding up, so soon 
the Major let fly a shot in this surprise, and down the fellow tumbled. 
The shot had hit him right along the back and grazed the bone, but 
he's not killed, but quarter was the word and now the rest are all upon 
the deck. The prisoners he orders one by one down to the hold, the 
master only left and then he locks the hatches, and then he questions 
freely. ' That schooner there above is my consort, and we are bound 
to Gaspee to bring provisions for three hundred Indians now assembled 
at Miramichi and Aristigush, under the command of Monsieur Bohaber, 
and who, on our return, are to proceed to Quebec to reinforce that gar- 
rison.'" 

The Major is suddenly fired with the wish to prevent these Indians 
from joining his country's foes. By further querying he finds the 
schooner has ten men, but no gun or carriage or a swivel ; of this last 
sort the sloop had six, all on one side. The windlass is now manned, 
the anchor is apeek, and now she's under way, and steered by Stobo 
straight for the schooner. " Stand firm, my lads," said Stobo, in low, 
collected tones, " this is a glorious night, and as for you, Monsieur, if 
you should once but mutter, your life that moment shall surely pay the 
cost." 

Stobo now laid the sloop right alongside the schooner, and by his 
stern orders, a dose from all the swivels is poured into her at once. She 
was then boarded without one instant's delay, her crew instantly calling 
out for quarter. 

This was a most extraordinary deed of Stobo's ! How must that lit- 
tle band have been dazed at this daring and unexpected assault ! Stobo 
now stood, with cocked musket, at the companion door; boldly ordered 
down the prisoners, one by one, from the sloop ; removed everything 
valuable from the latter and smaller vessel; transferred the swivels, and 
then deliberately set fire to the sloop, which lights up the whole heavens 
with her funeral pyre. 

All this time the poor woman stood trembling on the shore, keeping 
guard over the first two prisoners. When the thunder of the broadside 



Major Stobo Captures two Ships. 37 

was heard, the noise went to her heart like death's last summons. She 
was sure the guns were fired at Stobo and the rest, since she knew they 
had no guns. She was just about to surrender herself to her own two 
prisoners, and to entreat them to save her and her children, when she 
sees the vessel a-fire. She fears and wonders, but keeps her own 
thoughts. Now Stobo selects two of his best men and two prisoners, 
and sends them ashore for the company there, and brought all safely on 
board. The hatches now being closed on no less than eighteen pris- 
oners, which are too many to be safe, they are ordered up by ones, and 
eight are sent adrift in the small boat, with provisions plenty, a musket 
and shot, and fishing tackle, when off sails the schooner under British 
command and worked by French sailors. 

The small boat's party made straight to shore, and thence to the near- 
est military post, and told all that had happened. The officer, having 
heard of Stobo's escape from Quebec and the munificent prize offered 
for his capture, at once raised every man that could be spared; armed 
a suitable vessel and made chase after the schooner. Too late ! by this 
time Stobo was too far ahead, and kept steadily on his course for several 
days, until the Island of St. John's appeared. By scudding along on 
one side of the isle, they chanced to miss a British fleet which was pass- 
ing towards the river by the other channel. The armed sloop in pursuit 
of them, however, had no such good luck, for she was captured by the 
British. 

At length our adventurous party sighted Cape Breton, away across 
the Gulf of St. Lawrence, and soon gained the British fortified port of 
Louisburg, having been full thirty-eight days making the voyage from 
Quebec. The news of this wonderful and gallant escape flew from 
mouth to mouth, and the whole place was in a ferment of excite- 
ment. Stobo was for a time the "observed of all observers." The 
schooner, with its valuable furs and other goods, was sold, and Stobo 
gave all his own share of the proceeds to the poor woman and her chil- 
dren, who had so long been his patient compagnons du voyage. The 
Major himself had nobler and more patriotic ends in view. 

Two days only passed when behold Stobo on board an armed vessel 
about to join the expedition against Quebec. No danger in the river 
now is dreaded, and he is just as anxious to reach Quebec as he was 
formerly anxious to escape from it. Having arrived safely, Stobo at 
once waited on the British General Wolfe, told him who he was, and 
his intimate knowledge of the place where he had been so long confined, 
and asks for service. The General at once engaged him on reconnoi- 
tres, making him one of his own household, Once, when Wolfe was on 
a vessel closely examining the batteries about Montmorenci, an ene- 



38 Our Western Border. 

my's ball hit the vessel, causing a splinter to grievously wound Stobo in 
the thigh. He was daily engaged to lead scouting parties in every di- 
rection, and soon became known throughout the whole fleet and army 
for his activity. 

Once, when Stobo was on the Admiral's ship, he was informed there 
was a French prisoner aboard who knew him, and found him to be the 
barber who used to dress his hair. Stobo ended the interview by taking 
him into his own service. The Major's thorough local information was 
of much use to Wolfe. When the great and successful assault was made, 
it was Stobo who pointed out the best place for a landing, and was then 
chosen to proceed to Boston by vessel as a courier, with important dis- 
patches and kind recommendations, to General Amherst. When the 
Atlantic was reached, the vessel was chased by a French privateer. 
Stobo, soon as he found the capture of the British vessel was inevitable, 
committed his dispatches to the deep, and determined to shoot his French 
valet to preserve his own life, but on the fellow solemnly swearing that 
he would never betray him, he removed his pistol from his temple and 
spared his life. 

The privateer had taken several British vessels, and had aboard more 
prisoners than they could well secure. When this new vessel, therefore, 
was captured, the crew, among whom the Major passed undetected, was 
packed into a sloop, but his valet was put in irons as a French deserter. 
The sloop was then sent adrift with one day's provisions, to find the 
port of Halifax, which they were four days reaching. Stobo had scarce 
set foot on land before he hastened to reach Amherst by land — a dreary 
and wonderful journey through almost a total wilderness. 

Of Stobo's difficulties and adventures during this tedious journey, we 
have no information, but we do know that he safely reached Amherst 
and delivered his dispatches, as, also, that he attended that General as 
a volunteer in his Lake Champlain Expedition. That being concluded, 
he proceeded to Williamsburg, Virginia, arriving there in November, 
1759, and was joyfully received by his old friends and associates in arms 
as one risen from the dead. 

The Virginia Assembly, soon as they could convene, resolved that a 
thousand pounds should be presented him, over and above, from the time 
of his rendering himself a hostage, as a reward for his zeal to his coun- 
try and a recompense for the great hardships he had suffered during 
his confinement in an enemy's country. The House of Burgesses also 
made an address to the Governor, desiring that he would take him under 
his especial favor and would promote him in the service, and passed also 
a motion of thanks for his "singular bravery and courage exerted on all 
occasions, and that Messrs. Nicholson, Bland and Washington should 



Major Stobo Captures two Ships. 39 

wait on the Major to return him their thanks for his invaluable services;" 
to all which Stob.o returned a most grateful answer. 

This was not all. The Major was now tendered a twelve months' 
leave, as Major of his regiment with full pay, if he should choose to go 
to England, which generous offer was duly accepted, and early in 1760 
he took passage for Europe, with many letters of recommendation from 
Generals Amherst. Monktoh and others. His troubles, however, it 
seems, were not yet quite over, for when the vessel was about entering 
the English Channel, she was chased and boarded by a French privateer. 
Stobo had taken the precaution to put himself in disguise, and to sink 
his letters many fathoms deep over the vessel's sides. The vessel was 
rummaged, the passengers were rifled of their watches and valuable prop- 
erty and the vessel released by paying the privateer twenty-five hundred 
pounds. The Major's share of this redemption money was a hundred 
and twenty-five pounds. Had the French only known who he was (for 
by this time the fame of his exploits had traveled far and near) no sum 
could have secured his release. 

The English port of Falmouth was now reached, and as Stobo was 
drawing on his coat to go on shore, he found, to his great surprise, un- 
der the arm-pit, a letter from General Monkton to the great Pitt, which 
had by some means escaped the fate of the others. He learned, how- 
ever, that the story of his marvelous adventures had preceded him. On 
arriving at London he drew up a modest narrative of what he had done 
and suffered and asked to have a command in his country's service. 
He was well received by Pitt, who held a long conference with him 
concerning America and gave him a strong letter to General Amherst, 
stationed at Boston, in which he signified the King's approbation of 
Stobo's success, and asked that Amherst as "a. particular favor" would 
give him command in his own or Anstruther's regiment. Armed with 
this, the Major did not long delay, but in two days sailed back for 
America. 

The memoirs of Stobo, published by Craig, end at this point in his 
history. We can find no further allusion to him. Washington is said 
to have made mention of Stobo's being alive and probably residing in 
London as late as 1 7 7 1 . It is most probable he was there in the Eng- 
lish service or had retired on half pay. If alive when the American 
Revolution broke out, he may not have had it in his heart to aid in 
oppressing a struggling people for whom he had once endured uncom- 
mon hardships, and who in turn had paid him graceful honors. 



40 Our Western Border. 



BRADDOCK'S EXPEDITION AGAINST FORT DUQUESNE. 

The news of the capitulation of Fort Necessity created a great ex- 
citement throughout all the eastern colonies. It came upon them like 
" thunder from a clear sky." It was truly considered that if the pre- 
vious collision between Washington and Jumonville had rendered war 
between France and England possible, this later conflict at Fort 
Necessity had made it inevitable. In the mother countries the serious- 
ness of the crisis was at once recognized, and both governments, while 
diplomatically exchanging courteous notes or making mutual explana- 
tions, were quietly but busily preparing for war. England, however, 
at that period was badly governed. She moved slowly, and nothing 
whatever was done to resent the French aggression in the West during 
the whole of the year '54. While the. French were making good their 
possessions west of the Allegheny river, building their forts, holding 
treaties, and plying all their arts with the Indians, the Colonies were 
doing little but wrangling among themselves or unitedly calling on the 
mother country for help. 

The year 1755, however, marked an ominous change. While both 
sides professed the most peaceful desires and intentions, preparations 
for a ve*y vigorous conflict for the vast and rich domain stretching for 
thousands of miles west of the Allegheny mountains, were constantly 
going forward. Gen. Braddock, with two regiments, arrived in Feb- 
ruary as Commander-in-Chief of all His Majesty's forces in America, 
and the coming campaign contemplated the attack of four key-points 
of the French : Fort Duquesne, Niagara, Crown Point, and the French 
posts in Nova Scotia. To Braddock himself was committed the im- 
portant role of reducing Fort Duquesne. It was his belief that the 
British flag would be floating over it by the 1st of June, and it was his 
intention then to proceed north and reduce other French posts ; but it 
is " man who proposes but God who disposes." 

The French at Fort Duquesne had early news of Braddock's advance 
against them. They had few regular troops on which to rely, and were 
obliged to supplement them, as far as possible, by a gathering of the 
savages. To win these over and induce them to fight the English, was 
now the aim of Contrecceur, the commandant at Fort Duquesne. To 
this end shrewd and artful emissaries were dispatched among the 
Mingoes, Delawares and Shawnees, who, by crafty pow-wows, delusive 



Braddock's Expedition against Fort Duquesne. 41 

promises and frequent distributions of gifts, succeeded in detaching 
them from their old allies, the English. Fortunately for their aims, a 
treaty that had been made with the Six Nations (who claimed the whole 
boundless West by right of conquest) a short time previous, at Albany, 
New York, had produced universal rage and disgust among the Ohio 
tribes. For a few beads, bells, blankets and trinkets, they found the 
whole territory they claimed and occupied as their own, now given 
away from under their feet. 

The Delawares, too, had never forgotten or forgiven the disgraceful 
swindle practiced on them in '37, and generally known in history by 
the Walking Purchase, and which we may describe hereafter. In brief, 
the Indians had been persuaded to give a very valuable tract of land on 
the Delaware as " far as a man could walk in a day and a half." In- 
stead of construing this contract as it was evidently meant, the best and 
most active walkers of the country were hunted up and put in training; 
at the same time a smooth road was laid out, so that no obstruction 
might be offered. By this means an incredible distance was gotten 
over, and the outraged Delawares were justly indignant and refused to 
move and give up their villages and grain fields until compelled by the 
Iroquois, their masters. As one of the swindled remarked of the 
walkers: "White man no walk, no drink, no stop to rest or shoot 
squirrel, but run, run, run whole time." All this the French leaders, 
mingling familiarly among them, promised to win back for them, and 
with faces freshly painted and heads duly shaved and plumed for the 
war-path, the dusky warriors flocked in to Fort Duquesne. 

In fact the poor Indians were very much troubled and confused at 
this juncture. They were opposed to the encroachments of both French 
and English. One of their chiefs had, at one of these palavers, shrewdly 
put the pertinent query, "Since the English claim all the lands on the 
other side of the Allegheny, and the French all the lands on this side, 
where, pray, do the Indians' lands lie? Tell me that!" Another chief, 
with equal appropriateness, had said, "You and the English are like 
the two blades of a pair of shears, and we like the cloth which is to 
be cut up between them." They had no union in their councils and 
seemed like a mob of bewildered children. In addition to the local 
savages drawn to the fort for its defence against Braddock's formidable 
army, there were scattered beneath the sombre forest around, Ojibwas 
and Ottawas, under the lead of the Sieur de Langlade and Nis-so-wa- 
quet ; and Hurons and Cauhnanagas, under the lead of Athanase, the 
Christianized Chief from Lorette, Canada. Among the prominent 
chiefs arrayed with them were Pontiac, Shingiss, Beaver and Catahe- 
cassa, all keen and cruel as wolves upon the scent of blood. 



42 Our Western Border. 

And now let us stop to consider awhile who Major General Braddock 
was, and how well he was fitted for the important task before him. 

The Character of Gen. Braddock and his Army. 

Generalissimo of all His Majesty's troops in North America, and 
favorite of the great Duke of Cumberland, Major General Braddock 
was now full sixty years of age, over forty of which were passed in 
active military service with the famous " Cold Stream Guards." It is 
difficult within the compass of a few brief paragraphs to sketch his life 
and character. It is generally allowed, even by his bitterest enemies, 
that he was personally brave, honest, loyal, and well versed in military 
matters, but a rigid martinet, and too apt to rely on exact drill and dis- 
cipline exclusively for success. "Desperate in his fortunes, brutal in his 
behavior, obstinate in his sentiments," writes Walpole, " he was still 
intrepid and capable." Mr. Shirley, his own military secretary, in a 
confidential letter written while far on this march to Governor Morris, 
of Pennsylvania, says, "We have a General most judiciously chosen for 
being disqualified for the service he is in, in almost every respect. He 
may be brave for aught I know, and he is honest in pecuniary 
matters." 

In private life, it must be confessed, Braddock was, or rather had 
been, dissolute and reckless, keeping the low and disreputable company 
of London actors ; given to the debaucheries of his day and class — the 
bottle and the gaming table. Franklin, that keen observer of human 
nature, pronounced him a brave man and a good officer, but arrogant, 
having too much self-confidence, too high an opinion of regular troops, 
and too mean a one of both Indians and Americans. The old philoso- 
pher, when hearing Braddock's account of what was to be done after 
Duquesne was taken, told him that the only fear he had, was from In- 
dian ambuscades and from the stretch of his attenuated line of march, 
nearly four miles long, which would be exposed to flank attacks and 
liable to be cut like a thread into several pieces. Braddock smiled at 
Franklin's ignorance, and replied, "These savages may, indeed, be a 
formidable enemy to your raw American militia, but upon the king's 
regular and disciplined troops, sir, it is impossible they should make 
any impression." The Indian opinion of him was given by Chief 
Scarrooyaddy to Governor Morris and the Pennsylvania Assembly three 
months after the defeat, which he attributed to pride and ignorance. 
" He is now dead," said the Half King, " but he was a bad man when 
alive : he looked upon us as dogs, and would never hear what we said, 
to him ; and that's the reason why a great many of our warriors left 
him, and would not be under his command." 



Character of Gen. Braddock and his Army. 43 

There are numerous incidents told of Braddock before his arrival on 
our shores. It is pretty certain, for instance, that he had once made a 
most unfeeling speech and a cruel pun when he heard of the sad death 
of his beautiful but unfortunate sister Fanny, who committed suicide 
under most distressing circumstances; that he was mean and base 
enough to live on the infamous wages of a notorious Mrs. Upton, in 
whose eyes he had found favor. He was known to be so needy that 
in one of his duels — this time with a Col. Gumley — his opponent, on 
coming on the ground, tossed him his purse, saying, "Braddock, you're 
a poor dog ; there, take my purse : if you kill me, you'll have to run 
away, and then you'll not have a shilling to support you ;" and finally, 
that he spent the last evening in London, prior to his departure for 
America, in the company of that frail actress, Miss Bellamy, then 
living as the reputed wife of a Mr. Calcraft, whom Braddock afterward 
made his executor. It is little wonder that the witty and sarcastic 
Walpole called him a " very Iroquois in disposition." 

But these were matters of the past. All authorities, foreign and 
provincial, unite in stating that since his arrival on our shores, the 
General had conducted himself with honesty, dignity and diligence, 
using his utmost energies to push matters forward — and this under the 
most vexatious and disheartening difficulties — and being exceedingly 
anxious to further the king's service. Had he been successful, as 
everybody expected he would have been, it is probable we would have 
heard little of him but praises. "Nothing is so successful as success." 

The worst that could be said of Braddock since his sojourn in 
America, was that he was impatient, intolerant, and complaining — 
scolding at everybody and finding fault with everything. But then it 
must also be admitted he had much reason therefor. The delays, 
swindles, and outrageous impositions which he and his army had to 
submit to, in the way of horses, wagons, provisions, and general army 
supplies, were almost incredible. The General's intercourse, too, with 
both Washington and Franklin was always pleasant and honorable to 
all parties ; and when the latter had raised a large number of wagons 
and teams for Braddock, in Pennsylvania, by means of a timely hand- 
bill circulated among the Dutch farmers, in which the threat was 
craftily held out that unless the aid was granted, the ferocious Hussar, 
Sir John St. Clair, would enter the province with a body of horses and 
forcibly take what he wanted, Braddock expressed his thanks to him 
in person, and wrote to his government that it was "almost the first 
instance of integrity, address and ability that he had met with in all 
these provinces." 

During his march, Braddock had gotten rid of many of his foolish 






44 Our Western Border. 

and pompous European notions. He soon discovered that America 
was a strange, unknown territory for him and his veterans, and that a 
western wilderness, with its crowded trees, dense thickets, and bridge- 
less streams, was a very bad place for high style or display. Thus he 
started by buying a tawdry and lumbering traveling chariot from Gen- 
eral Sharpe, of Maryland; and on the ioth of May, the army was 
startled by Braddock's rapid transit, on his way to Fort Cumberland, 
sitting grandly in his chariot, with a body of light-horse galloping on 
either side. Poor, mistaken old man, he was soon glad to come down 
to one sorry, attenuated cob, and after, to a rude litter," carried by a 
few faithful soldiers. 

Sir Peter Halket was second in command. He was a wary old Scotch- 
man and a high-born gentleman of the ancient regime. A nobleman 
by birth, he had married the Lady Amelia Stewart, daughter of the 
Earl of Moray, two of his sons being then with him. He was a brave, 
loyal, sagacious and honorable gentleman and an experienced officer, 
who had risen by merit alone ; and had Braddock trusted more in him 
and in Washington — the two who generally agreed touching all military 
movements — it would have saved him from defeat as well as disgrace. 
At the famous battle of Preston Pans — which occurred only ten years be- 
fore between Sir John Cope and the Highland clans and Jacobitish adher- 
ents of Charles Edward, the Pretender — Sir Peter, then lieutenant-colonel, 
had been captured and released on parole by Charles. This coming to 
the ears of the Duke of Cumberland, he ordered that officer to disre- 
gard his parole and rejoin his regiment, which Sir Peter stoutly and reso- 
lutely refused to do, saying that " His Royal Highness was master of 
his commission but not of his honor." The king approved this proper 
resolve of an honorable soldier and he retained his rank. It is sad to 
think of the fate which awaited so good a man. He and one of his 
sons now lie buried near the bloody field where they so bravely courted 
death rather than dishonor. 

It is not our purpose to give a detailed account of Braddock's ill-fated 
command, and its tedious, toilsome march, first to Cumberland, and 
thence to its battle-ground of disastrous defeat. Its nucleus, in the 
shape of the 44th regiment, Col. Sir Peter Halket, and the 48th, Col. 
Thomas Dunbar, had arrived from Ireland, disembarking at Alexandria 
about the middle of March, -17.75. Neither regiment numbered five 
hundred, and these were made up of Irish, Scotch and English, drafted 
from different commands, and a large proportion of base material. 
After reaching this country, these two regiments were recruited by raw, 
provincial levies up to an effective of seven hundred each, and, after in- 
numerable and vexatious decays and immense labor, were joined by 



Character of Gen. Braddock and his Army. 45 

independent companies from New York, Virginia, Maryland, South and 
North Carolina. The trouble, expense and delay in getting the army 
supplied with wagons, provisions, horses, etc., was almost incredible 
and entirely disheartening, and it was not until about the 8th of June 
that the heterogeneous little command was ready to march from Cum- 
berland. 

The whole force was divided into two brigades under Colonels Hal- 
ket and Dunbar, numbering about 2,150 effectives, not counting the 
usual train of non-militants — women, wagoners and hangers-on. The 
progress of this ill-sorted command was painfully slow, live miles being 
considered an excellent day's march, while most frequently it did not 
reach half that. Bridges had to be built, roads to be cut the whole 
way, deep and miry marshes to be traversed, and steep and rugged hills 
to be surmounted. The route chosen was by no means the shortest or 
the easiest one. The advice of Nemacolin, the Indian guide, was too 
closely followed. Frequently morasses had to be waded through and 
savage hills to be climbed, the heavy artillery being let down by the 
sailors with block and tackle. The number of wagons and pack-horses 
was strung out in a line of over four miles in length, which was con- 
stantly made the object of attack, though happily by small parties. In 
addition to the natural difficulties of the route, were superadded such 
as arose from crazy wagons, wretched and inadequate food, most miser- 
able horses, and a general sickness and discontent among the soldiers 
and officers. It is little wonder, then, that this army had been ten 
days in reaching the Little Meadows, but twenty-four miles from Cum- 
berland. This fatal tardiness would never do, and reductions of bag- 
gage were constantly occurring. Even the officers were compelled to 
give up their horses to the service, Washington, Braddock's aid-de-camp, 
offering his best charger, and reducing his luggage to one poor half- 
filled portmanteau. 

At the Little Meadows a council of war was held, the result of which 
was that Washington's advice was taken, and the army was divided. It 
was daily more evident if Fort Duquesne was to be reached before it 
was reinforced and in time to allow of subsequent military operations, 
that a light fighting division must push forward more rapidly, and so 
about twelve hundred of the best and most reliable troops were sifted 
out, together with a select train of artillery and pack-horses for the pro- 
visions. Colonel Dunbar, with all the heavy wagons, useless artillery 
and other impedi?nenta, was left behind with the worst and most unre- 
liable troops, to make his way as best he might. Even with these aids 
to a more rapid progress, it was not until the 21st of June that Brad- 
dock entered Pennsylvania, and not until the 30th, that he crossed the 



46 Our Western Border. 

Yough, near where Connellsville, Pa., now stands, and on the 7th of 
July, Turtle Creek yet remained to be passed. 

Had the General waited here for Dunbar's army, as was strongly 
urged by Sir John St. Clair, the Quartermaster-General, it would prob- 
ably have been the middle of August before the fort, then but a few 
miles off, would have been reached, and the whole army would either 
have starved or fallen into the hands of the enemy, as numbers would 
have availed little. "Dunbar, the Tardy," as he was called, had lost 
so many of his wretched draught horses by sickness, by starvation, and 
by constant stealings, that he could only move half his wagons at a 
time. After one day's march, the miserable and worn-out old jades 
were sent back to bring up the remainder, and then two days more be- 
fore a fresh start could be made. Now, add to all this a bad state of 
feeling among the troops, caused by an insufficiency of provisions ; no 
allowance of spirits ; nothing but water to drink, and that often bad 
and unwholesome, and a general disheartenment among the foreign 
troops. Disputes and jealousies were common, too, among the officers, 
and Braddock was not even on speaking terms with his two brigade 
commanders. Even the robust constitution of Major Washington had 
given away under this state of things, and he had been traveling for ten 
days in the rear in a covered wagon, and was but just now returning. 
He had exacted a promise from Braddock that on no account should a 
battle be fought without him being present. 

Turtle Creek, at the point where the army first struck it, was soon 
found utterly impracticable for artillery and the wagon train, without 
constructing a very long and costly bridge, and it was decided to aban- 
don this line altogether, turn sharp about and make for the Mononga- 
ghela, where the Indian guides said there were two excellent fords. 
The night of July 8th was passed about two miles from the Mononga- 
hela. It had been decided that what was known as the river "Narrows" 
— it being impracticable for artillery and affording for several miles ad- 
mirable facilities for hostile ambush and attack — should be avoided by 
crossing the Monongahela at the first ford, and recrossing it at the sec- 
ond ford a few miles below. By eight o'clock on the memorable 9th of 
July the first passage of the river was made at a point opposite Crooked 
Run, and even to this day observable by a deep scar in the banks where 
they were graded down to make a road for the artillery. The army 
now found itself on a broad bottom, covered with a fine growth of 
maple, walnut and sycamore, and moved steadily forward in the road 
cut for them. By eleven o'clock the second ford was reached, nearly 
opposite the mouth of Turtle Creek, and but a quarter of a mile below 
what is known now as the " Second Dam." 



The Disastrous Battle of Braddocks Fields. 47 

Here the bottom begins to narrow until it runs into the hills very 
near the margin of the river. On this grassy savanna, denuded of 
trees, Braddock, not doubting that the enemy from the opposite bluff 
were anxiously watching his every motion, resolved to impress them 
with the size and character of his command. Accordingly, while the 
banks were being graded down, on that as well as the other side, to al- 
low of the passage of the artillery, baggage wagons, cattle, etc., the 
troops were ordered to appear as for dress-parade. Now the astonished 
hills re-echo with the loud beat of drums and the swell of martial music. 
Every man was attired in his cleanest apparel. The flags and colors 
were unfurled, and the joyful and well-drilled troops, glittering in scar- 
let and gold, were rapidly marched and manoeuvred and put through all 
their movements, which they executed with the precision of a piece of 
machinery. 

This plateau, where, for over an hour, all this showy parade was go- 
ing on, was in full and uninterrupted view from the subsequent battle- 
field. The officers and soldiers viewed it with undisguised pride and 
delight. But one belief prevailed — the speedy occupation of the fort. 
No wonder that Washington, in after life, declared it to be the most 
beautiful and inspiring spectacle he had ever witnessed. All was now 
ready and after a brief repast the army had safely passed the river and 
reformed about one o'clock in a thick walnut grove, several hundred 
yards below the mouth of Turtle Creek, and hard by Frazier's cabin. 

The Disastrous Battle of Braddocks Fields. 
(Taken from the Historical Novel of " Old Fort Duquesne.") 

The death-shot hissing from afar ; . 

The shock, the shout, the groan of war, 

Reverberate along that vale, 

More suited to the shepherd's tale. — Byron's Giaour, 

One effort — one — to break the circling host ; 

They form — unite — charge — waver — all is lost ! 

Within a narrow ring compressed, beset, 

Hopeless, not heartless, they strive and struggle yet. 

Oh ! now they fight in firmest file no more ; 

Hemmed in— cut off— cleft down and trampled o'er. — Byron's Corsair 

We quote from " Old Fort Duquesne," the subjoined account of the 
battle of "Braddocks Fields," not alone because unusual pains have 
been used to make it full and reliable, but because the dialogue form 
in which it is cast, serves to liven it up and break the monotony. Cap- 
tain Jack, the Scout, and Scarrooyaddy, the Oneida Chief, are both his- 
torical characters. We quote : — 

It was now past one o'clock of a sultry afternoon. The rear guard 
had not entirely crossed the river, before the van had been pushed for- 



48 Our Western Border. 

ward towards the hills ; Gage, with his three hundred videttes, engi- 
neers, light -horse and pioneers in front, followed at a little interval by 
Sir John St. Clair's working party, with its two brass six-pounders, and 
its tumbrels and tool carts. Their business it was to cut and prepare 
the road marked out for them by the engineers. The march was to 
continue until three, and then the last bivouac before resting in Fort 
Duquesne, or, at least, before encamping down about it. On either 
flank of the advance were thrown out squads of videttes, to guard 
against surprise. 

The distant sound of the ringing axe, and the crash* of falling trees, 
could be distinctly heard as the pioneers rapidly advanced— first over 
the broad and gently-rising river bottom, and then up the slope which 
led to another gradually-ascending plain, which, in its turn, rested 
against a line of bold, wooded hills. This second alluvial slope was 
more heavily timbered than the flat below, while the undergrowth of 
vine, thicket, and tall wood grass became at every step more abundant 
and luxuriant. 

Adown this second sloping plain — although at that time, and not 
until long after known to or even suspected by the British — ran several 
ravines nearly at right angles to the brow of the hill which the advance 
had just surmounted. From one on the left trickled a little stream, 
which as it debouched into the first bottom, lost all distinctive channel, 
and was so diffused as to cause a sort of marsh. It was to avoid the 
treacherous footing of this miry bog, and to pass the head of the ravine 
which gave it birth, that the army was mounting so far towards the 
hill-sides. The ravine on the extreme right, which sprang from the 
hills and traversed the whole second plain, was both broad and deep, 
its sides and bottom thickly covered with huge trees, and having an 
unusually rampant growth of vines and brambles, and sufficiently ample 
to conceal an army of ten thousand men. 

About two hundred yards from the line of hill and the same distance 
from the broad ravine just mentioned, commences, right in the middle 
of the plain, and without any apparent raison d'etre, a most singular 
ditch, with a depth and breadth of a few feet at its head, but increas- 
ing soon to ten or twelve, and at that time overhung and completely 
concealed by a thick growth of vines and bushes; of grasses and 
trailers and the wild Indian plum. Even to this day it can scarcely be 
perceived, or, at least, its full capacity cannot be fully appreciated, until 
one is right upon and then in it. It is a most peculiar ditch, and could 
not be better adapted, either for attack or defence, were engineers to 
devise and fashion it. It could easily conceal a thousand men. 

The main place of action was on the densely-wooded tract between 



The Disastrous Battle of Braddocks Fields. 49 

these two ravines, with its fallen trunks, its coverts and thickets of vines 
and brush and grass. The course of the twelve-foot-wide road cut 
through these leafy coverts, was not parallel with either, but diagonal 
and turning the head of the last-described ravine at an angle of about 
forty-five degrees, the whole face and flanks of the passing army being 
exposed to a long line of the enemy's fire at an average distance of 
sixty or seventy yards. 

This then was the spot so carefully reconnoitred and so admirably 
chosen by the six French officers and Indian chiefs, whose departure 
from the fort we described in our last. Here was the slaughter-pen 
they had so adroitly marked out for their foes. When, or if, beaten by 
their adversaries at the river crossing, it was to this refuge they would 
retire, and here would they prepare their ambush. Not a man or offi- 
cer of the British army ever dreamed of these ravines, and never saw 
them during the three hours of combat, and it was only long after the 
disastrous action, when reason resumed its sway, and the beaten, driven 
mob of fugitives considered how pitilessly they were pelted and mown 
down by a terrible but unseen feu d'enfer, that they concluded their 
wily foe must have fired from hidden ravines. 

Pass over these quiet, peaceful "fields" now, as we have but lately 
done, part of them in grass and part staked out and soon to be occupied 
by the country seats of Pittsburgh business men, and then imagine them 
covered with a sombre and luxuriant forest, the ravines choked with 
vines and brush and undergrowth, and the long rows of deadly rifles 
resting on their edges and deliberately sighted by hundreds of naked 
savages, and then see the narrow road choked up with an unsheltered 
crowd of soldiers and mounted officers, and Braddock's defeat is easily 
accounted for. Had the French hunted for days, or had their engi- 
neers the privilege of selecting a ground for successful combat and 
arranging artificial ditches for attack and concealment, they could not 
have found or prepared any place better fitted for a dreadful and suc- 
cessful assault, or one which could so easily have protected the assail- 
ants. 

As Braddock and his aide Washington — still weak and shattered from 
his fever and unable to sit on his horse without a pillow — were stand- 
ing on the river's bluff, trying to bring order out of confusion, and to 
separate the noisy mob of soldiers, wagoners, artillery and cattle, the 
clear ring of the distant axe was suddenly exchanged for the rapid and 
continuous discharge of firearms. The crack of rifle, followed by the 
roll of musketry, appeared to be incessant. 

" My God, Major ! " cried Braddock, as he leaped to his horse, whose 
bridle his servant Bishop was holding near him, "the advance is 
4 



50 Our Western Border. 

attacked, and sharply, too ! What can it mean ? Mount on the in- 
stant, and bring me back a report of what's going on ! Tell St. Clair 
and Gage to throw well out their flankers ! and urge Burton, as you 
pass, to hurry forward with the vanguard, while I get the artillery in 
motion. Here ! you infernal scoundrels of wagoners and cattle-drivers, 
get you out of the road with your rubbish into the woods on either 
side, and let the troops and guns press on ! Quick step ! Don't 
dally ! " 

Washington delayed not an instant, but springing upon his powerful 
roan, spurred along under the trees and by the side of the road now 
choked up with artillery and soldiers, all pressing forward with utmost 
speed and excitement. He soon reached the first slope ; a few strides 
and his horse was over its brow and on the plain beyond. The firing 
was now straight ahead of him. Officers and men stood huddled in 
groups in the road ; some few had taken to the trees on either side. The 
two brass pieces had just been unlimbered and the cannoneers were pre- 
paring to apply the match. The attack had evidently been sudden and 
unexpected, and Washington now saw Gage's advance doubled back 
upon St. Clair's working party, and for a brief space all was confusion. 
Nothing could be seen in front but the flashes of the enemy's guns and 
the shadowy forms here and there of French and Indians as they glided 
from tree to tree ; nothing heard but the crack of rifles, the noise of 
muskets, the piercing yells and whoops of savages, who seemed to fill the 
woods and to be working around in a semicircle. 

"Ho! Sir John," exclaimed Washington, as St. Clair, foaming with 
rage and mad with excitement, approached to form and urge on the men. 
"What's all this? The General bids you halt where you are; throw 
your flankers well out, and hold your own — if hotly pressed — until Bur- 
ton comes up. What's the nature of the attack?" 

"Fierce as furnace fire and hot as d n," answered the fiery Sir 

John. " Harry Gordon was in the very front marking out the road 
when, upon hearing a rushing noise ahead and looking through the 
trees, he saw a pack of French and Indians on the run, a gaily-dressed 
officer, with a silver gorget on his bosom, leading the way with long 
kangaroo leaps. Soon as they got within musket shot, the cursed 
Frencher stopped short in his tracks, and waving his plumed hat above 
his head and then stretching his arms to either side, his pack of red 
devils scattered to right and left, crouched down and slunk away behind 
trees, trunks, and what-not, until, by heavens, they had completely 
vanished — not a painted head or hide of one of them to be seen — the 
skulking cowards ! The first we knew, a pitiless hail of bullets rained 
upon us, amid the most horrible screeches and yells and infernal noises 



The Disastrous Battle of Braddocks Fields. 51 

sure ever mortal heard. I'm blessed, Major, if I'm used to this kind 

of fighting don't know what to make of it. Our flankers have all run 

in, and the carpenters, or what's left of them, are huddled down the 
road like so many sheep worried by wolves, and the troops are fairly 
appalled by these screeching demons. For God's sake, hurry old Brad- 
dock up ! tell him we've got the whole French-Indian army in our 
front, and will have to fight our way to the fort step by step." 

Washington, after a few more brief, rapid questions, took in the 
whole situation and turned his horse's head. He had gone but a few 
steps when he saw Jack and the Half King a few yards on one side of 
the road, each peering from behind his tree and trying to catch sight ot 
something to shoot at. 

"Halloo ! Jack and Scarrooyaddy. You there, my braves? Where 
are the other Indians ? They must scatter in the woods and try and 
find out where those devils are hiding and what's their force. I'll have 
Braddock here in a flash." Just then a crack was heard and a bullet 
whizzed by, going through and through the lappel of Washington's 
coat. 

"Aha ! Major," cried Jack, quick as thought, as he raised and fired 
his rifle, " that's just the chance I've been waiting for. I've watched 
that skulking Shawnee now for over a minute. I knew he wouldn't let 
you pass without a shot. That's their game, the cunning varmints. 
Pick off the mounted leaders, and the rest comes, of course. Don't 
stay to see where I hit him, Major. Old ' Black Rifle ' is certain as 
death. Hurry up the troops ! we'll need 'em all, for the savages are in 
full feather in front ; if there's one, there's a thousand, twisting and 
creeping and gliding about among those trunks. Halloo ! there's 
Yaddy's rifle. Hit him again, by Jupiter ! and a Frencher, too ! No 
bark without its bite is the plan we're acting on." 

Washington had not far to go. Braddock, finding the uproar not 
only continuing but even increasing in front, had raged through the 
whole army like mad, and could not wait for his aid's report. Order- 
ing Burton to detach eight hundred men and hurry forward with all 
possible speed, he left Sir Peter Halket in the rear with full four hun- 
dred to protect the baggage. He then swore and stormed along the 
whole artillery line, and pushed the guns forward as fast as possible. 

Washington met the General, his eyes fairly aflame and with spurs 
buried deep into his horse's flanks, right on the brow of the hill. Gage's 
cannon at that moment had just filled the woods with their resounding 
roar, which was followed with cheer after cheer from the British, who 
were standing in a confused crowd in the middle and on the sides of 
the road, loading and firing as fast as they could. 



~>2 Our Western Border. 

The terrible, leaden hail, which had been so steadily raining on the 
English and shattering their columns, now slackened for a while. The 
British then advanced on the French in front, pouring in a hot fire, 
though very few of the enemy could be seen. As they drew near, 
another staggering discharge met them, appearing to come, as it were, 
right out of the ground. 

The British rallied again, and opened a dreadful storm of grape and 
musketry, sweeping away everything living before them, but the 
grievous misfortune was, that about the only living things were the 
trees of the woods. Beaujeu, the chief leader of the foe, and several 
others, were seen to fall, while the Indians, unaccustomed to the appall- 
ing roar of artillery and the loud huzzas of the soldiery, appeared to 
waver, and for the moment gave way. A well-pushed bayonet charge 
just then would have put them to remediless flight. Observing, how- 
ever, that the French and Canadians still held their ground in the 
direct front ; much exasperated by the fall of their loved Beaujeu, and 
urged on to revenge by Dumas, Langlade and de Lignery, they took 
fresh heart, and returned to their trees and ravines, through and along 
which they extended more and more. 

It was just at this critical moment that Braddock's horse leaped into 
the road, and, struck instantly by a bullet in front, fell on the very 
leap, throwing the General violently to the ground. The grim and 
infuriated old warrior staggered to his feet, sword in hand, and glared 
around like a lioness robbed of her whelps. His eyes fairly shot flames, 
and his face grew livid with rage as he saw his carefully-drilled veterans 
standing in groups and without order, all appearing to fire at random, 
while many were shooting into the trees above them, as if their foes 
were birds in the branches. To increase his disgustful rage, just at this 
moment Gage's advance gave way entirely. The unseen enemy had 
worked themselves along the ravines on both flanks, and, from behind 
the dense undergrowth and tall grass which fringed them, poured in a 
most galling fire, coolly and securely picking off officer after officer. 

Colonel Burton's command had just come upon the ground, and 
were forming, as well as could be under such a murderous hail of lead 
and in such a narrow road, when crowding down upon them came 
Gage's and St. Clair's shattered columns trying to get into their rear, 
and mixing the two regiments in inextricable confusion. 

Then it was that Braddock stormed around with a rage and an indig- 
nation which was almost sublime from its intensity. Turning sharply 
on Gage : 

" How's this, craven sir ! would ye so basely dishonor your king 
and the duke ? God's wrath ! is this the way you've been taught to 



The Disastrous Battle of Braddocks Fields. 53 

fight ! By the Eternal, but I'll break your disgraced sword where you 
sit in saddle ! Curses on you all for a set of white-livered cowards ! 
You look more like a flock of silly sheep set on by hounds than 
drilled soldiers. For shame ! for shame ! Fall in ranks, every 
mother's son of you, and come out from behind those trees ! By the 
great God above us, men, but I'll cut down with my sword the first 
soldier, British or American, who dare skulk behind a cover ! Out 
with you, cowards !" and suiting the action to the word, Braddock 
leaped to the road side and actually hit with the flat of his sword 
several whom he found behind the trees, while others he pushed into 
the road. 

"General," sullenly expostulated Gage, "these insults are unde- 
served. We can't fight a deadly foe who surrounds us on three sides 
but whom we can't see. The officers are falling like leaves all about 
you. The men are plainly panic-stricken. If allowed to get behind 
whatever cover offers, they can pick up heart and reform when the 
enemy is found. If not, we'll all be killed, officers and men." 

"Killed!" hoarsely roared Braddock, while mounting his second 
horse. "And why not? Better die with naked front to the foe than 
blink and skulk like hares in their 'forms.' Get behind trees! Oh, 
that ever I'd live to hear a British officer and a nobleman's son, too, 
give voice to such dastard words ! Officers, I command you to sepa- 
rate yon frightened mob ! Advance the regimental colors ! Set up 
rallying points ! Tell the men off into platoons, and hunt up the 
enemy in that way ! Major Washington, bid the rest of the artillery 
advance and open with grape !" 

The word had scarce left his lips before his second horse was laid 
low with a bullet, and Braddock was again on his feet in the road, 
which did not go far to improve his temper. Here Washington ven- 
tured to observe, quietly and in low tones : " General, since the ene- 
my's evidently in great strength ahead and on each flank, would it not 
be well to find out exactly where he is, and how he manages to so hide 
himself? If we could retire the troops a little out of fire, beat up these 
woods with the bayonet, and reform — " 

" Retire ! retire out of fire ! and before a d — d dastardly foe who 
dare not uncover himself !" shouted Braddock. "Major Washington, 
you are my aid-de-camp to carry orders, not to give them ! Retire is 
a round, well-picked word ! It may suit your American militia, but, 
sir, it is a disgraceful word for an officer holding His Majesty's com- 
mission, either to speak or to hear ! It was by retiring, as you well 
call it, that Forts Duquesne and Necessity were given up by you last 
year to the French! Dam/;z<?, sir, it has been so much retiring that 



54 Our Western Eorder. 

brings me and my army on this field ! Here, orderly, bring me 
another mount !" 

Washington's pale face flushed up with indignation at this stinging, 
but totally undeserved, taunt, the more galling since Braddock had re- 
peatedly given his approval of the '54 campaign. Seeing the General's 
obstinate temper, and knowing he had no right to offer advice, he 
put spurs to his horse and was soon over the hill to hurry up the 
artillery. 

"That's right, officers !" hoarsely shouted Braddock, soon as he was 
again mounted. "Tell off your men into small parties, advance on a 
double-quick, and drive these d — d skulking vagabonds from their 
hiding-places !" 

It was useless. By this time the confident and whooping savages had 
enveloped both flanks, while a most galling concentric fire was poured 
in upon the panic-stricken army, which was particularly severe upon 
the officers. In vain these officers, with unparalleled bravery, put 
themselves repeatedly at the head of small parties and advanced 
with cheers upon the hidden foe. Distinguished by their horses and 
uniforms, they were simply sacrificed. In the dark and narrow road, 
surrounded on all sides by gloomy trees and dense thickets, were 
crowded close together the panic-stricken wretches, appalled at the 
fatal fire of foes whom they never saw. Many fired away into the air; 
many more brought down their own men. 

Wherever a puff of smoke was seen, off went the soldiers' muskets ; 
while all around, securely hidden in those mysterious, unsuspected 
ravines, lay a screeching, murderous, insatiate foe, their rifles or mus- 
kets loaded with both bullet and buckshot, peering through grass and 
bushes, resting them on the brinks, gathering more and more confi- 
dence with each fatal volley, and making the forest echo with demoniac 
yells and whoops and savage clamor. Occasionally a naked and 
hideously-painted savage would break from cover, and rush forward 
with fearful screech to secure the scalp of some officer he had shot. 
Then would follow a volley of musketry from the poor soldiers, killing 
or wounding their own fellows more than damaging the enemy. 

Sir Peter Halket's Death — Braddock' s Retreat and Death. 

What followed deserves not the name of battle ; it was simply a horri- 
ble slaughter. Once Colonel Burton managed to gather a hundred 
men and advanced towards a rising ground in front, the very centre of 
the French position, but upon his being disabled by a rifle ball, the rest 
retired precipitately. By this time Sir Peter Halket came up with rein- 
forcements, but too late for good. The men were hopelessly disordered 



Sir Peter Halket 's Death. 55 

and panic-stricken, firing off all their ammunition, quarreling with their 
brave officers, who threw themselves from their horses and led them 
repeatedly on foot, but only to be swept into eternity. 

The only thing for Braddock to do when he found himself caught in 
this horrid slaughter-pen, was, manifestly, to retire his forces while he 
had them yet under control ; throw out scouting parties to beat up the 
enemy's position ; bring up his artillery to the ends of the ravines and 
thoroughly rake them with grape and canister, or to rout out the 
securely-hidden foe with the bayonet. Indians have never yet been 
found able to withstand a bayonet charge. The cold steel at close quar- 
ters demoralizes. They quiver, break and fly. This was what both 
Halket and Washington urged him to do, but to no purpose. He raged 
along the road like a fury; drove back his men by the sword and 
seemed determined to overcome by mere force of drill and obstinacy. 
Indeed, it is uncertain whether he now could have executed the 
manoeuvre. No soldiers — not even Cumberland's veterans — could long 
withstand a deadly and concentrated fire from front and both flanks. 

The fact that the fatal flashes and puffs of smoke and volleys seemed 
to come right out of the ground and from unseen foes, while the whole 
air and woods around rang full of savage yells and horrible screechings, 
completed the demoralization. Many afterwards declared that during 
the whole three hours' contest they had never once seen a foe; while 
others would not assert that they had seen over half a dozen. It is only 
wonder that soldiers so wretchedly posted and so badly commanded, 
could stand it as long as they did. The Provincials suffered as much as 
the British soldiers. Whenever and wherever they could, they took to 
the trees. It is even asserted, and we think it probable, that some of 
the officers who, by Braddock's explicit command, attempted to beat 
back into the road the men who had thus sought shelter behind trees, 
were shot by their own men. 

In one of the pauses of this one-sided conflict, Washington, who had 
been kept busy carrying the General's orders — the other aids, Orme 
and Morris, having been wounded — saw Colonel Halket, grim and 
weary-looking, standing dismounted under a huge oak, and leaning 
heavily against its massive trunk. Hastening up and out a little from 
the fire, he anxiously inquired : 

" I trust, Sir Peter, you are not very badly hurt?" 

"Na, na, Geordie; but Ise gotten eneuch. 'Tis joost aboon my 
baldric. Wha culd luke to go thro' siccan an awsome day wi'out scaur 
or scaith. I ha'e fear Ise ta'en a strong grippit o' death. I am sair, 
sair forfoughten, but never fear, mon, but wha' the auld Sir Peter will 
e'er present a heckle to his foes." 



56 Our Western Border. 

"Oh, 'tis not so bad as that, Colonel," said Washington ; " but you, 
like the rest of us, have received your baptism of fire. 'Tis. a gory field, 
and the end's not yet." 

"D'ye mind, Major, the ' secon-sight ' I tauld ye of yestreen and 
the vision of bluid? Said I not recht? — but, ha'e ye seen Jamie, 
laddie?" 

" I have, Sir Peter ; there he stands, and unhurt." 

" 'Tis strange, verra strange. 'Tis the bairn Francis, and not James 
that's hurt and ta'en to the rear, alang wi' Sir John Sinclair, Colonel 
Burton, Gladwin, and mony ithers. Oh, but this is a sorra day ! 
Braddock's joost lost his fourth horse. The fule carle thinks he's fightm' 
on the broad plains o' Flanders. 'Tis eneuch amaist to drive one dis- 
traught to see him trying to wheel and manoeuvre a whail army, shoul- 
ther to shoulther, in a twal-fut road. I ha'e beggit him to let his men 
tak to the woods, but the dour deevil wi' not. He's clean daft, Geordie, 
clean daft." 

"Well, Colonel," said Washington, "no use to discuss the General 
now. You need immediate attention. I'll send Some soldiers to take 
you to the rear." 

Washington had scarce gone a hundred paces before a bullet, sped by 
an Indian rifle from the ravine, struck Halket straight through the 
heart. Just as he was falling, his son James rushed forward and caught 
him in his arms. He, too, was at the same instant mortally struck, and 
both fell together, locked in each other's embrace, and this was the last 
of the old Scotch nobleman. The two bodies lay, just where they fell, 
for years, through Summer's heat and Winter's snow — " 'mid all t&e 
wreck of the spiteful elements." We will hereafter relate how, three 
years after, two skeletons were found locked together, and in how 
singular a manner the young Sir Peter Halket identified them as those 
of his father and brother. The Provincials — the American militia of 
whom Braddock was so contemptuous — were among the last to yield 
the hill. Among them were Jack, Gist, Waggoner, Scarrooyaddy and 
others of the more cool and collected scouts and rangers, who had, 
wherever they could obtain a " coign of vantage," kept up a desultory 
fire upon the foe. 

About this time Jack, his face all begrimed with powder, his bullets 
almost all spent, his eyes glowing and teeth clenched in a sort of bull- 
dog fixedness, was sullenly retiring from tree to tree hotly pushed by 
some Ottawa Indians; when he noted the approach of our old acquaint- 
ance, Captain Waggoner of the Virginia Rangers, with what was left 
of his men. They were doggedly retreating step by step, casting many 
an anxious look behind. 



Braddock's Retreat and Death. 57 

"Waggoner," exclaimed Jack, "'tis a crying shame that we should 
stay here and' be butchered for the mad whims of a man, who may be 
as brave as Julius Caesar, but who's also as crazy as a loon. Now, I've 
been studying the lay of these lurking red devils, and from the line ot 
their fire, I feel certain their whole position can be turned from that 
huge fallen tree yonder, lying just on the rise of the hill. What say 
you? Can you take your men, and let us run for it? 

" Good ! Jack. Give me your hand on't, old hickory ! I'm with 
you till death. I can depend on what is left of my company to a man, 
and think I can get enough rangers from Dobb's, Dagworthy's, Stevens' 
and Peyronies' companies to make the attempt. Ho ! " he shouted in 
clear, ringing tones, "American rangers, stay one moment! We've 
tried fighting Indians on the British plan, and if we go on one short 
half hour longer, we'll not have a whole scalp left. Captain Jack pro- 
poses to run forward and take possession of yonder huge log, which 
commands the enemy's position and will give us complete protection, 
and we'll route those cursed, yelping, barking devils down there, 
quicker'n you could scrunch a nest of rattlesnakes. All who want to 
redeem this disgraceful day and strike at least one stout blow for vic- 
tory, follow me ! " 

A hearty cheer rang out, and about eighty American rangers, inclu- 
ding, also, Jack, Scarrooyaddy, Alaquippa's two sons, Gist, Fairfax, and 
two other friendly Indians, agreed to follow. 

" Now, lads, all load up, and sling each man of you around his tree 
and draw their fire." 

" So ! " as a brisk volley came from the foe. " Now for it ! " and 
Jack and Waggoner leading, they darted rapidly forward, rifles cocked, 
all ready in trail and losing only three men by the way. 

"Now!" shouted Waggoner, "spread yourselves along snug and 
fire at will, and if we don't have a little to boast of this day, my name's 
not Tom Waggoner. Look ! Jack ; look ! D'ye see the painted slip- 
pery devils wriggling and gliding away ! A-ha ! we've got 'em, every 
pop ! Now for it, boys ! Quick ! quick ! before you lose 'em. Ready ! 
Take aim ! Fire!" — and a tremendous volley and red line of flame 
leaped from their rifles. 

"Ha ! " yelled Jack, springing to his feet with excitement, as he saw 
a whole raft of Indians break cover. " One more like that and we'll 
have scalps enough to buy a farm apiece. Hurrah ! boys; hur — " 

His words were drowned by the roar of guns and a general discharge 
of musketry behind him, and at least forty of the eighty fell killed and 
wounded by the fire from the mob of British regulars in their rear, who 
loaded and fired wherever they saw a flash or smoke. 



58 Our Western Border. 

" My God ! " gasped Jack, the first to recover from the dreadful shock 
which seemed to paralyze and hold speechless all that were left. " Shot 
by our own men, as I'm a living sinner ! Worse than murder, by hea- 
vens ! Come, Waggoner and Yaddy, it's no use. The day's lost when 
British soldiers can thus slaughter their betters." 

Another volley was poured on their doomed heads, until fifty out of 
the gallant little band were either killed or wounded, and the rest were 
put to a hasty flight. Their rage, disgust and indignation can be 
imagined but not described.* Braddock, almost all his best officers 
either killed or wounded, and all the ammunition shot away, found it 
now almost impossible even to effect a safe or orderly retreat. The In- 
dians, having little more to fear from the army on the hill plain, had 
now worked down the ravines until they appeared on the first "bot- 
tom," and commenced to attack the baggage. The flank parties posted 
for its security all but one ran in. A great number of horses and some 
drivers were shot down, while the rest, cutting loose the best horses in 
the teams, mounted and were off. The cannon did some service, and, 
commanded and sometimes even served by Washington himself, had tor 
some time kept off the foe, but the spot was so woody that very little 
execution could be done. 

Just at this juncture, Braddock himself, who had had five horses 
killed under him and whose clothes had been riddled with bullets, re- 
ceived a mortal wound while standing beneath a large tree on the brow 
of the second rise. The ball passed through his right arm, lodging 
deep in his lungs. The order he was just giving was left unfinished on 
his lips. Falling from his horse, there the brave but unfortunate Gen- 
eral lay, with but a few friends around him and all his drilled veterans 
flying off in headlong, disgraceful flight. "They ran," wrote Wash- 
ington in his first letter after the battle, " as sheep pursued by the dogs, 
and it was impossible to rally them." 

It is related by George Croghan, the famous Indian interpreter, that 
Braddock, unwilling to survive the disgrace of his defeat ; disgusted at 
his desertion by the famous soldiers " who had served with the Duke," 
and probably tormented by the pains from his wound, refused to be 
carried from the field, insisted upon being left alone, and finally tried 
to possess himself of Croghan's pistol, wherewith to make an end of 
himself. Be this as it may, Captain Orme, wounded as he was, offered 
sixty guineas to any of the regulars who would carry him off the field, 



* This awful disaster to Waggoner's volunteer movement, the only one of the day which promised 
success, is historical ; indeed the whole account of this battle is based on information carefully gath- 
ered from every possible source, and can be taken as reliable. 



Braddock's Retreat and Death. 59 

but in vain. It was a sauve qui pent rout with the regulars and " devil 
take the hindmost." 

Captain Stewart of Virginia, commander of the body-guard of light 
horse, and Braddock's own "aide" Captain Orme, carried the dying 
General off the field, put him in a tumbrel, then upon a fresh horse, 
and thus the old veteran was borne from the scene of his defeat. It 
was a custom in those days for every officer to carry a sash of scarlet, 
silken net-work, with which to bear him, if wounded, from the field. 
The sash in which Braddock was this day carried, the date of its manu- 
facture (1707) and the initials E. B. wrought in the woof, and the 
blood-red stains upon its netting still visible, is said to be yet preserved 
in the family of the late President Taylor. 

The fall of the General destroyed all semblance of further opposition. 
Every aid but Washington and every field officer was struck down. 
About nine hundred out of the fourteen hundred men, and sixty-three 
out of the eighty-six officers were either killed or wounded, and the rest 
scarce waited for the drums to sound the retreat. All, all was aban- 
doned ! Horses, cattle, wagons, artillery, military chest, personal bag- 
gage, every thing — and what was worse, almost every person who was 
badly wounded.* 

Down, down the fugitive mob rushed to the ford, over which they 
had passed with such pageantry and enthusiasm in the morning. The 
whole route was strewn with guns, military trappings, and even cloth- 
ing — all which could impede flight. About fifty Indians pursued even 
to the Monongahela, tomahawking several in the passage. 

It was well that the savages, glutted with blood, ladened down with 
scalps, or having a wholesome fear of Dunbar's army still in the rear, 
turned aside from the monotony of slaughter to the work of gathering 
the rich spoils of the disastrous field. Had they chosen to pursue 
across the river, or had they gone up the same bank and waited at the 
other ford, two miles above, for the poor, panting, exhausted and panic- 
stricken fugitives, as they crossed the stream for the fourth time that 
day, but few would have been left to tell the sad and disgraceful tale. 

But happily, and it is a well-attested historical fact, the French and 
Indians were about as much frightened as the British. After hastily 



* There were two exceptions worthy of special note. Captain Treby of the 44th was so desper- 
ately wounded as to be unable even to crawl to the nearest bushes to avoid the pursuing Indians. 
While the herd of fugitives went trooping by, his woeful situation arrested the attention of a gentle- 
man volunteer named Farrel, who placed the sufferer on his own back and so carried him until out of 
danger. At the first fire, Captain John Conyngham's horse was shot down and he himself very se- 
verely wounded. Falling under his horse, and being unable to rescue himself, his soldiers "for the 
love they bore him," rushed to his rescue and finally carried him in triumph to a place of safety, al- 
though many were shot dead in the attempt. 



60 Our Western Border. 

tearing away the scalps from both living and dead lying on the fatal 
field ; after having loaded themselves and the captive beasts with all 
manner of spoils and killed all the horses they could not take with them, 
they spiked the British artillery and burst all the shell, and only fol- 
lowed the route of the British fugitives when they learned from deser- 
ters that the panic with Dunbar's reserves was even greater than with 
the army in the field. 

Scarcely believing that this disgrace, which was at the time consid- 
ered throughout the country as far greater, more inexcusable, and more 
disastrous in its consequences than even the defeat and flight of Brad- 
dock's army, could be possible, Dumas — Beaujeu's successor — then sent 
a force to follow the route, and to destroy all that " Dunbar, the Tardy," 
in his pusillanimity, had left. 

This headlong, disgraceful flight is an unwelcome theme, and not be- 
ing directly connected with our story, we care not to dwell on it, ex- 
cept to say that about a quarter of a mile on the other side of the river, 
a hundred men were prevailed upon to make a brief stand at a favora- 
ble point. Braddock and some wounded officers remained there an 
hour or so, but soon all the soldiers sneaked off, and Washington, sick, 
exhausted and fever-stricken as he was, and having so lately passed 
through a most terrible ordeal, with two horses shot under him and four 
bullets through his coat, was dispatched by Braddock to Dunbar to for- 
ward wagons, provisions, etc., to the wounded. He rode, sad and op- 
pressed, during the whole of that wet, long and dismal night; through 
dark, gloomy forests, frequently having to dismount to grope for the 
path, and reached Dunbar — whose camp was in an incredible state of 
alarm and confusion from reports brought by the frightened wagoners 
— by sunrise the next morning. His wretched feelings during that 
truly doleful ride can better be imagined than described. Thence, be- 
ing still very feeble, he retired to Mt. Vernon to recruit his shattered 
health. 

It is a well-attested fact, that in 1770 — fifteen years after this battle- 
Washington, when traveling on the Big Kanawha, was visited by an old 
Indian chief, who stated that he had been present at the battle of Brad- 
docks Fields, and had not only often fired on Washington himself but 
had instructed his young warriors to fire; but finding it in vain, had 
come to the conclusion that he was protected by the Great Spirit and 
was preserved for a great future. So, indeed, he was. We may pause 
by the way one moment to follow Braddock till death released him. 
He remained under the faithful care of Captain Stewart; was first car- 
ried on horseback and afterwards conveyed by soldiers in his sash, fast- 
ened on poles as a "stretcher." 



Braddock's Retreat and Death. 61 

At ten P. M. on the ioth, the day after the battle, he reached Gist's 
plantation. Next morning he arrived at Dunbar's camp, high up in the 
Laurel Hill, six miles from the present city of Uniontown, where the 
half-famished fugitives from the battle-field were constantly coming in 
and soldiers deserting by the score without ceremony. Braddock's 
strength was now rapidly ebbing away. He had abandoned all hope of 
achieving anything ; and it is to be supposed that the sufferings of his 
mind were far greater than those of his body. He still issued his com- 
mands, and confidently expecting pursuit and knowing that Dunbar's 
panic-stricken force was in a most shameful and dangerous state of de- 
moralization, ordered the destruction of the immense stores of arms, 
wagons, powder and provisions, resuming his march towards Cumber- 
land on the 12th. These orders were not fit f<pr a British officer to give 
nor for one to obey. Want of horses and demoralization of his army 
were Dunbar's excuses. 

On the 13th Braddock was evidently sinking fast. Ever since the 
retreat commenced, he had preserved an almost unbroken silence. His 
dying hours were very much embittered, and it would have been far 
better had he left his remains on the carnage field. The only allusions 
he made to the fate of the battle, was to softly repeat to himself once or 
twice: "Who would have thought it?" Turning to Orme: "We shall 
better know how to deal with them another time!" and these were his 
parting words. A few moments later he breathed his last at eight P. M. 
Sunday, the 13th, and was buried the next morning right in the middle 
of the road — Washington reading the funeral service over his grave. 
The troops, wagons and artillery passed over the place to destroy all 
traces and prevent discovery and mutilation by the enemy, supposed to 
be in pursuit. 

About 1823, some laborers, while working on this road, exposed 
these last "unwept, unhonored and unsung" remains. They were 
still distinguishable by their military trappings. It is asserted that some 
were sent to Peale's Museum, Philadelphia, while the rest were re-in- 
terred under a tree near by. This tree has, in these present times, 
either by "decay's effacing fingers," or by the spoliations of relic-hunt- 
ers, been reduced to a mere rotten stump. It remained for Josiah King 
and John Murdock, of Pittsburgh, to rescue the spot from total neglect. 
In December, 1871, they proceeded to the forsaken grave, situate on 
the farm of James Dixon, nine miles east of Uniontown, and planted 
about it a number of elms, spruces, larches and willows. 

We scarce deem it worth while to allude to a Pennsylvania tradition, 
industriously circulated and generally believed throughout the whole 
country for half a century, that Braddock fell by the hands of one of 



62 Our Western Border. 

his own men. Thomas Fausett, a sort of mountain hermit of Fayette 
county, wild, uncouth and gigantic in his appearance, distinctly claimed 
for himself that he killed Braddock to save the remnant of the army 
from destruction, and to revenge the cutting down of his brother Joseph 
by Braddock for taking a position behind a tree. There is not a tittle 
of trustworthy evidence to support the story. All cotemporary author- 
ities are totally silent concerning any such feat, and Fausett's own tale 
— as well as are the accounts of those who uphold his claim — is bung- 
ling, absurd and inconsistent. 

It is now known, from sundry French accounts, that the French, who 
had scouts out following and menacing Braddock's army from the time 
it left Fort Cumberland — scarcely expected to give it more than a check 
on its way. The French* Indians were very much demoralized by the 
rumors of the size of the well-equipped English army, and refused to 
make a stand. The day before the battle, however, Beaujeu, the com- 
mandant of the fort (not Contrecceur, as the histories have it), went out 
and made an earnest and passionate harangue to the savages, but they 
held a council and still refused to stir, alleging that it would be mad- 
ness for such a small force as theirs to attack Braddock's great army. 
Beaujeu, who was very influential with the Indians and much beloved 
by them, made now a last appeal: "I am determined to go," he said. 
"What ! will you suffer your father to go out alone?" He then started 
out with his tomahawk and rifle, accompanied by his regulars and Ca- 
nadians, and was immediately followed by a mob of yelling savages. 
Beaujeu was killed almost at the first fire, Dumas then taking the com- 
mand. The French loss was very trifling, and Langlade, who led the 
Indians, stated that some of those who were killed were not hit by the 
enemies' bullets, but by the falling limbs cut from the trees by the over- 
shooting of the English cannon. As soon as the defeat was sure Lan- 
glade had all the English liquors poured out upon the ground for fear of 
a savage debauch. 

The French-Indian force was not known until lately, but according 
to three accounts from their side, is now put down at seventy-five regu- 
lars, one hundred and fifty Canadians, and six hundred and thirty Indians. 
It is also pretty certain that the French intended making their first stand 
at the river, and had selected the ground where the actual battle was 
fought as the best place to which to retire in case of defeat. But the 
English army was quicker than expected, and they had scarcely time to 
take their places about the slaughter-trap that they had so artfully se- 
lected, before the hapless Britons were enmeshed. When the French 
were first sighted, they were undoubtedly all on the spring, Beaujeu 
far in the advance. Smith's interesting narrative (given hereafter) fur- 



Braddock's Retreat and Death. 63 

nishes the only English account of the departure of the French force 
to the battle, and of its return thence, laden with booty, and of the 
subsequent horrible torture of prisoners, a barbarous sequel which must 
forever rest as a foul stain upon the French escutcheon. 

Of course this disastrous battle settled for the time the dominion of 
all the vast territory between the Allegheny and the Mississippi — but 
more, it left naked and defenceless the whole western half of the 
provinces of Pennsylvania and Virginia. The disgraceful and panic- 
stricken retreat to Philadelphia of Dunbar, the " Tardy," was, as we 
have said, far more deplorable and immediately calamitous than Brad- 
dock's defeat itself. All was given up as lost. The whole back coun- 
try was thereby left naked and unprotected, and its inhabitants, finding 
themselves deserted, with no money or leaders or organization, became 
also panic-stricken, and left houses and stock and growing crops, and 
moved back to and even beyond the Susquehanna. It was some time 
before the French and their Delaware and Shawnee allies discovered 
the woeful state of panic and demoralization which followed the great 
battle; but when small, adventurous parties of scouts and robbers 
brought back news how their mere presence even put whole communi- 
ties to flight, and how houses, crops, cattle, and the entire settlements 
were deserted, both Indians and French entered upon their horrid work 
with alacrity and with a keen relish for blood and slaughter. Many of 
the friendly Indians living along both sides of the Allegheny mountains, 
became at first discouraged, then defiant, and then hostile, joining with 
the western bands to burn, murder and destroy, until the whole coun- 
try, from New York down deep into Virginia, became one vast theatre 
for the most wanton destruction and inhuman barbarities. 

The only redeeming feature in that whole period was the successful 
expedition which Colonel John Armstrong made, September, '56, 
against Kittanning, at that time occupied by Delaware Indians, headed 
by the brave but cruel Captain Jacobs, and the point and direction 
from which most of the forays against the Susquehanna border were 
made. The village was attacked in the night, a number of houses 
burned and Indians killed, including Jacobs and some of his wives, and 
a great many white captives set free. In fine, these were sad and 
humiliating days for England, both at home and abroad. Everything 
British was at the very lowest ebb. There was nothing but defeat, dis- 
grace and despair; and so, indeed, it continued until the great man 
after whom Pittsburgh was named seized the helm of State. His nerve 
and ability soon put a new complexion on matters. Among his very 
first resolves was to make a second attempt to take Fort Duquesne, and 
to recover to the English crown the vast domain given up to the 



64- Our Western Border. 

French at Braddocks Fields ; and to this end he ordered the immediate 
collection, in Eastern Pennsylvania, of a large force, under a brave 
and skillful general. 



Duquesne's Capture — Grant's Defeat — Highland Rage. 

The army of the Scotch General John Forbes — the "iron-headed," 
as he was called — was nearly six thousand strong, composed of about 
thirteen hundred Highlanders and the rest chiefly Virginia and Penn- 
sylvania troops. At Raystown (now Bedford) he halted, and sent for- 
ward Colonel Bouquet with two thousand men, to occupy the Loyal 
Hanna. The detachment by Bouquet of eight hundred men under 
Major Grant ; the advance, and empty bravado of that officer under 
the very walls of Fort Duquesne ; the subsequent sally of the French 
and Indians from the fort, by which Grant's army was flanked on both 
sides of the hill which now bears his name and situate right in the 
centre of Pittsburgh, and his force only saved from utter annihilation 
by a stand made by the Provincial troops, are all well-known matters 
in history and we need not dwell on them. It is sad, however, to be 
compelled to relate that De Lignery was cowardly enough to deliver 
five of the prisoners taken at that rout to be burned at the stake, and 
that the remainder were tomahawked in cold blood on the parade 
ground of the fort. 

The triumph at Grant's Hill almost brought the French to ruin, for, 
as after the battle of Braddocks Fields, so now, the Lake Indians, be- 
lieving the English army completely defeated, deserted for their dis- 
tant homes. A most timely visit, just at this time, of the Moravian 
Missionary, C. Frederick Post, to the Delaware and Shawnee chiefs be- 
tween Duquesne and Beaver, completed the demoralization of the 
French. The two tribes were found very sick of the war and most 
anxious to return to their allegiance, so that when Forbes' army — after 
innumerable difficulties and disheartening delays — drew near, De Lig- 
nery, after firing the buildings, destroying the stores, and all possible 
of the works, ended by blowing up the magazine, and embarking in 
boats, some down the Ohio and others up the Allegheny. On the 24th 
of November, 1758, Forbes' army had encamped at Turtle Creek, 
his provisions, forage, etc., so nearly exhausted that even from that 
advanced point a retreat was seriously advised by a council of war. 

The sick and emaciated but stout-hearted old General — who was car- 
ried on a litter all the way from and back to Philadelphia, where he 
shortly after died — would not hear of it, but swore he would sleep in 



Duquesne's Capture. 65 

the fort the next night.* That very evening a great smoke, in the 
direction of the fort, was reported, and at midnight the whole camp 
was startled by the dull, heavy sound of some great explosion. // was 
the magazine of the old fort ; and encouraged by these signs, the army 
pressed on, the Provincials, in their fringed hunting-shirts, leading the 
way; next came the Royal Americans, their drums beating a lively 
march, followed by the old iron-headed General, his wasted form re- 
clining in a litter ; and last of all came the Highlanders, in a long and 
picturesque line, in their kilts and plaids — the " petticoat warriors," as 
the Indians called them. 

As they all approached the fort, they passed along a race-path, on 
either side of which a horrid sight presented itself. A long row of 
naked stakes were planted, on each of which was impaled the head of 
a Highlander, killed at Grant's defeat, while beneath was suspended his 
kilt and accoutrements. Disgusted and provoked at the scene, it is said 
the Americans quickened pace and hastened on ; but not so the High- 
landers. One who was present thus relates the exciting scene that 
followed : 

• c The first intimation given by the Scots of their discovery of the in- 
sulted remains of their butchered brothers, was a subdued, threatening 
murmur, like the angry buzzing of a swarm of bees. Rapidly swelling 
in violence, it increased to a fierce, continuous, low shriek of rage and 
grief, that none who listened to would willingly hear again. In this 
moment, officers as well as men seemed to have abandoned every senti- 
ment but one of quick and bloody vengeance, and, inspired by a com- 
mon fury, cast all discipline to the winds. Their muskets were dashed 
upon the ground, and, bursting from the ranks, the infuriated Gaels, 
with brandished claymores, rushed madly on with hope to find an enemy 
on whom to accomplish retribution. Startled at the sound of swiftly 
tramping feet, the amazed Provincials looked round to see the headlong 
torrent sweep by, burthening the air with imprecations, and foaming 
' like mad boars engaged in battle.' " 

Too late ! The fort was in flames, and the last boat of the flying 
Frenchmen was disappearing in the evening mist that hung around 



*An amusing story— to which, perhaps, the Italian proverb, " si non e vero, bene trovato ," (if it 
is not true, it ought to be) would well apply — is told of some French chiefs who had secretly ap- 
proached Forbes, the " iron-headed," when near Fort Duquesne, on a peace mission. The General, 
as stated, was very sick, and had to be constantly conveyed in a close litter. From this he spoke to 
trie strange chiefs, who were greatly surprised, and asked why he was so carried. The officers 
told them that he was a desperate fighter, and was so savage and terribly ferocious against the 
faithless Indians that he had to be closely confined. The chiefs were much impressed, and de- 
parted, it is said, both sadder and wiser men. When the fort was found abandoned, no savages were 
found about. 

5 



66 Our Western Border. 

Smoky Island. In place of old Fort Duquesne — the scene of so many 
exploits and the bone of contention for so long a time between two 
great and powerful nations — there was now but a heap of smoking ruins, 
the stacks of some thirty chimneys only remaining to mark where the 
houses stood, and sixteen barrels of gunpowder and ball and a cart-load 
of scalping knives — discovered in the only magazine which had refused 
to fire — were the only spoils which remained to be gathered. But a 
small force was left, the main army marching east soon after. A square 
stockade for two hundred men, under Colonel Hugh Mercer, was built, 
which was succeeded the next year by the more imposing and much 
more costly structure, Fort Pitt. 

Strange Discovery by the young Sir Peter Halket of the 
Skeletons of his Father and Brother. 

No sooner had General Forbes possession of the fort, or rather its 
site, than Major Halket, the son of Sir Peter Halket, and successor to 
his title and estates, resolved to visit the battle-ground of Braddocks 
Fields with a company of sharpshooters, under command of Captain 
West, brother of the great painter, Sir Benjamin West. The young Sir 
Peter had piously accompanied the Highlanders to America mainly to 
try and discover the remains of his father and brother, whose sad and 
peculiar death, at Braddocks Fields, we have already described. 

By interrogating some of the Indians who had fought with the French 
at that massacre, he found one who said he had seen an officer, answer- 
ing the Major's description, fall near a remarkable tree, which he 
thought he could discover, stating, moreover, that the incident was im- 
pressed on his memory by observing a young subaltern, who, in run- 
ning to the officer's assistance, was shot dead on reaching the spot, and 
who fell across the other's body. The Major had a mournful conviction 
on his mind that the two officers were his father and brother, and the 
expedition, commanded by Captain West, and piloted by the Indians, 
took up their melancholy march. From Gait's Life of Benjamin West 
we give this brief account of this remarkable excursion. 

" Captain West and his companions proceeded through the woods 
and along the bank of the river, towards the scene of the battle. The 
Indians regarded the expedition as a religious rite, and guided the 
troops with awe and in profound silence. The soldiers were affected with 
sentiments not less serious, and as they explored the bewildering 
labyrinths of those vast forests, their hearts were often melted with inex- 
pressible sorrow, for they frequently found skeletons lying across the 
trunks of fallen trees — a mournful proof to their imaginations, that the 
men who sat there had perished of hunger, in vainly attempting to find 



Stkange Discovery. 67 

their way to the plantations. Sometimes their feelings were raised to 
the utmost pitch of horror by the sight of skulls and bones scattered on 
the ground — a certain indication that the bodies had been devoured by 
wild beasts ; and in other places they saw the blackness of ashes amidst 
the relics — the tremendous evidence of atrocious rites. 

" At length they reached a turn of the river, not far from the princi- 
pal scene of destruction, and the Indian who remembered the death of 
the two officers stopped ; the detachment also halted. He then looked 
round in quest of some object which might recall, distinctly, his re- 
collection of the ground, and suddenly darted into the woods. The 
soldiers rested their arms without speaking. A shrill cry was soon after 
heard, and the other guides made signs for the troops to follow them 
towards the spot from which it came. 

" In a short time they reached the Indian warrior, who, by his cry, 
had announced to his companions that he had found the place where he 
was posted on the day of the battle. As the troops approached, he 
pointed to the tree under which the officers had fallen. Captain West 
halted his men around the spot, and with Sir Peter Halket, and other 
officers, formed a circle, while the Indians removed the leaves which 
thickly covered the ground. The skeletons were found, as the Indians 
expected, lying across each other. The officers having looked at them 
some -ime, the Major said, that as his father had an artificial tooth, he 
thought he might be able to ascertain if they were indeed his bones and 
those of his brother. 

" The Indians were, therefore, ordered to remove the skeleton of the 
youth, and to bring to view that of the old officer. This was done, 
and after a short examination, Major Halket exclaimed, ' It is my 
father ! ' and fell back into the arms of his companions. The pioneers 
then dug a grave, and the bones being laid in it together, a Highland 
plaid was spread over them, and they were interred with the customary 
honors." 



68 Our Western Border. 

Note.— Subjoined is a representation of Bouquet's old Block-house, the only existing relic, or 
rather suggestion of Fort Duquesne. It still stands in Pittsburgh, strong and staunch, and the loop- 
holes for musketry plainly visible, amid a crowd of shabby, dingy houses near the river junction. It 
was built over the ruins of the evacuated post by Col. Bouquet. The stone in the facade bears in 
rude characters the inscription : 

" A. D. 1764. COL. BOUQUET." 

For the purpose of better preservation, it has lately been removed to the New City Hall, by order 
of the Councils of Pittsburgh. 




The Touching Story of Fanny Braddock. 

In our description of General Braddock's character we stated that he 
"had once made a most unfeeling speech and a cruel pun when he heard 
of the sad death of his beautiful but unfortunate sister Fanny, who 
committed suicide under most distressing circumstances." We may 
here very aptly introduce a brief sketch of this accomplished lady, con- 
densed from an account given by Goldsmith in his Life of Beau Nash: 

Mistress Fanny Braddock was left a large fortune at her sister's de- 
cease, moved in the very best society, and contracted a passion for ele- 
gance. "Whatever the finest poet could conceive of wit, or the most 
celebrated painter imagine of beauty, were excelled in the perfections 
of this young lady." Naturally gay, sprightly, generous to a fault, and 
excelling in conversation, she left writings both in prose and verse 
which were as witty and brilliant as any in that age. Her chief failing 
was imprudence in the use of money. Anxious to relieve distress, she 
was lavish beyond reason; at nineteen she was surrounded by lovers, 
among whom was S , a talented but unfortunate man, whose love, 



Story of Fanny Braddock. 69 

pity, generosity, and even friendship, were all in excess. He was called 
"the good-natured man," and became Mistress Braddock's favorite. 
Very soon, his debts becoming overwhelming, he was arrested and 
thrown into prison, and his lady-love immediately took the fatal resolu- 
tion of releasing him by discharging all his debts. All the admonitions 
of Nash and her other friends were disregarded. Her fortune was by 
this means exhausted, and, with all her attractions, she lost rank and 
esteem, and accepted Nash's invitation of a return to Bath, where, for 
a time, she moved in the very first circles, but a settled melancholy 
now possessed her and nothing could divert her. 

Her beauty, simplicity and artlessness finally made her the victim of 
a designing woman who kept fashionable gambling rooms, and who, by 
flattery, loans of money, etc., soon gained an entire ascendency over 
the thoughtless deserted girl, and in 1727, Miss Fanny Braddock, with- 
out, as Goldsmith says, "ever transgressing the laws of virtue, had en- 
tirely lost her reputation. Whenever a person was wanting to make up 
a party for play at dame Lindsey's, Sylvia, as she was then familiarly 
called, was sent for, and was obliged to suffer all those slights which the 
rich but too often let fall upon their inferiors in point of fortune." 

This charming girl struggled hard with adversity, and yielded to every 
encroachment of contempt with sullen reluctance. Matters soon grew 
from bad to worse, until her friend Nash induced her to break off all 
connection with dame Lindsey and to rent part of a house, where 
she behaved with the utmost complaisance, regularity and virtue; but 
her detestation of life still grew on her, and about this time she fre- 
quently dwelt, and conversed much, on suicide. She soon became so 
poor that, unable to mix in company for want of the elegancies of dress, 
she lived a lonely and deserted life, and accepted the position of gov- 
erness in Mr. Wood's family. 

While he and part of his household were absent in London, she con- 
ceived the fatal resolution of leaving a life in which she could see no 
corner for comfort. Thus resolved, she sat down at the dining-room 
window, and with cool intrepidity wrote the following lines on one of 

" ' O death ! thou pleasing end of human woe ; 

Thou cure for life ! thou greatest good below ; 
Still mayst thou fly the coward and the slave, 
And thy soft slumbers only bless the brave. 

She then went into company with the most cheerful serenity, and or- 
dered supper to be ready in the little library, where she spent the hours 
before bedtime in dandling two of Mr. Wood's children on her knees. 
From this point we quote Goldsmith: 

"In retiring to her chamber, she went into the nursery to take her 
leave of another child, as it lay sleeping in her cradle. Struck with the 



70 Our Western Border. 

innocence of its looks and the consciousness of her meditated guilt, 
she could not avoid bursting into tears and hugging it in her arms. 
She then bid her old servant good-night and went to bed as usual. 
She soon quitted it, however, and dressed herself in clean linen and 
white garments of every kind, like a bridesmaid. Her gown was pinned 
over her breast, just as a nurse pins the swaddling clothes of an infant. 
A pink silk girdle was the instrument witlx which she resolved to termi- 
nate her misery, and this was lengthened by another made of gold 
thread. The end of the former was tied with a noose, and the latter 
with three knots. 

"Thus prepared, she sat down and read; for she left the book open 
at that place, in the story of Olympia, in the ' Orlando Furioso ' of 
Ariosto, where, by the envy and ingratitude of her bosom friend, she 
was ruined and left to the mercy of an unpitying world. This fatal 
event gave her fresh spirits to go through her tragical purpose. So, 
standing upon a stool and flinging the girdle which was tied round her 
neck over a closet door that opened into her chamber, she remained 
suspended. Her weight, however, broke the girdle, and the poor de- 
spairer fell on the floor with such violence that her fall awakened a 
workman that lay in the house, about half after two. Recovering her- 
self, she began to walk about the room, as her usual custom was when 
she wanted sleep, and the workman, imagining it to be only some ordi- 
nary accident, again went to sleep. 

"She once more, therefore, had recourse to a stronger girdle, made 
of silver thread, and this kept her suspended till she died. Her old 
maid waited as usual for the ringing of the bell, hour after hour, 
until two of the afternoon, when the workman, entering by the win- 
dow, found her unfortunate mistress still hanging and quite cold. The 
coroner's jury brought in a verdict of lunacy, and her corpse was next 
night decently buried in her father's grave. 

"Thus ended," concludes Goldsmith, "a female wit, a toast and a 
gamester; loved, admired and forsaken; formed for the delight of soci- 
ety ; fallen by imprudence to be an object of pity. Hundreds in high 
life lamented her fate, and bought up her effects with the greatest avid- 
ity; and she remains the strongest instance to posterity that want of 
prudence alone almost cancels every other virtue." 

When the news of the suicide was told to her brother, Edward Brad- 
dock, he is said to have uttered this cruel and unfeeling play upon 
words: "Poor Fanny, I always thought she would play till she would 
be forced to l tie herself up." 1 To "tie oneself up from play" was a 
cant phrase of the day for incurring some obligation, which should act 
as a restraint upon gambling. 



Adventures of Col. James Smith. 71 



REMARKABLE ADVENTURES OF COL. JAMES SMITH. 

Five Years a Captive among Indians. 
• 

Among the captives confined at Fort Duquesne during the battle of 
Braddocks Fields and the subsequent torture of prisoners on the banks 
of the Allegheny, was a brave and enterprising Pennsylvania lad by the 
name of James Smith. He was adopted into an Indian tribe and re- 
mained a captive five years. After his release he had a series of adven- 
tures, and after his removal to Bourbon, Ky., became quite a promi- 
nent citizen and legislator, and wrote an exceedingly interesting narra- 
tive of his captivity. He furnishes the fullest and most faithful account 
ever yet published of the habits, customs, sentiments and daily forest 
life of the American Indian, such as he was before being debauched 
and contaminated by intercourse with swindling traders and rum 
tranickers. 

Smith has been appropriately called the "untutored Defoe," and there 
is such a charming quaintness and simplicity in his invaluable narrative 
that we very much regret we may not give it entire. We cannot refrain, 
however, from quoting him for as much as we have room. In fact it is 
to him, as the only English-speaking person in the fort, that history is 
indebted for the only account of the French-Indian departure for the 
battle, their return from the gory field laden down with scalps and 
spoils, and the subsequent horrid and inhuman torture of prisoners. 
We quote : — 

In May, 1755, the province of Pennsylvania agreed to send 
out three hundred men, in order to cut a wagon road from 
Fort Loudon to join Braddock's road, near the Turkey Foot, 
or three forks of Yohogania. My brother-in-law, William Smith, 
Esq., of Conococheague, was appointed commissioner, to have the 
oversight of these road-cutters. Though I was at that time only 
eighteen years of age, I had fallen violently in love with a young lady, 
whom I apprehended was possessed of a large share of both beauty and 
virtue ; but being born between Venus and Mars, I concluded I must 
also leave my dear fair one, and go out with the company of road- 
cutters, to see the event of this campaign; but still expecting that 
some time in the course of this Summer, I should again return to the 
arms of my beloved. 

We went on with the road without interruption until near the Alle- 
gheny mountain, when I was sent back in order to hurry up some 



72 Our Western Border. 

provision wagons that were on the way after us. I proceeded down 
the road as far as the crossings of the Juniata, where, finding the 
wagons were coming on as fast as possible, I returned up the road 
again toward the Allegheny mountain, in company with one Arnold 
Vigoras. About four or five miles above Bedford, three Indians had 
made a blind of bushes, stuck in the ground, as though they had grown 
naturally, where they concealed themselves, * about fifteen yards from 
the road. When we came opposite to them they fired upon us at this 
short distance, and killed my fellow-traveler, yet their bullets did not 
touch me ; but my horse making a violent start, threw me, and the In- 
dians immediately ran up and took me prisoner. The one that laid 
hold on me was a Canasataugua; the other two were Delawares. One 
of them could speak English, and asked me if there were any more 
white men coming after . I told them not any near, that I knew of. 
Two of these Indians stood by me, whilst the other scalped my com- 
rade : they then set off and ran at a smart rate, through the woods, for 
about fifteen miles, and that night we slept on the Allegheny mountain, 
without fire. 

The next morning they divided the last of their provisions, which 
they had brought from Fort Duquesne, and gave me an equal share, 
which was about two or three ounces of mouldy biscuit — this and a 
young ground-hog, about as large as a rabbit, roasted and also equally 
divided, was all the provision we had until we came to the Loyal Han- 
na, which was about fifty miles ; and a great part of the way we came 
through exceeding rocky laurel thickets, without any path. When we 
came to the west side of Laurel Hill, they gave the scalp halloo, as 
usual, which is a long yell or halloo for every scalp or prisoner they 
have in possession ; the last of these scalp halloos was followed with 
quick and sudden shrill shouts of joy and triumph. On their perform- 
ing this, we were answered by the firing of a number of guns on the 
Loyal Hanna, one after another, quicker than one could count, by 
another party of Indians, who were encamped where Ligonier now 
stands. As we advanced near the party, they increased their repeated 
shouts of joy and triumph ; but I did not share with them in their ex- 
cessive mirth. 

When we came to this camp, we found they had plenty of turkeys 
and other meat there ; and though I never before eat venison without 
bread or salt, yet as I was hungry, it relished very well. There we lay 
that night, and the next morning the whole of us marched on our way 
for Fort Duquesne. The night after we joined another camp of In- 
dians, with nearly the same ceremony, attended with great noise and 
apparent joy among all except one. The next morning we continued 



Adventures of Col. James Smith. 73 

the march, and in the afternoon we came in full view of the fort, which 
stood on the point, near where Fort Pitt now stands. We then made 
a halt on the bank of the Allegheny, and repeated the scalp halloo, 
which was answered by the firing of all the firelocks in the hands of 
both Indians and French who were in and about the fort, in the afore- 
said manner, and also the great guns, which were followed by the con- 
tinued shouts and yells of the different savage tribes who were then 
collected there. 

As I was at this time unacquainted with this mode of firing and yell- 
ing of the savages, I concluded that there were thousands of Indians 
there ready to receive General Braddock ; but what added to my sur- 
prise, I saw numbers running towards me, stripped naked, except 
breech-clouts, and painted in the most hideous manner, of various 
colors, though the principal color was vermilion, or a bright red ; yet 
there was annexed to this black, brown, blue, &c. As they approached 
they formed themselves into two long ranks, about two or three 
rods apart. I was told by an Indian that could speak English that I 
must run betwixt these ranks, and that they would flog me all the way 
as I ran, and if I ran quick it would be so much the better, as they 
would quit when I got to the end of the ranks. There appeared to be 
a general rejoicing around me, yet I could find nothing like joy in my 
breast ; but I started to the race with all the resolution and vigor I 
was capable of exercising, and found that it was as I had been told, for 
I was flogged the whole way. When I had got near the end of the 
lines, I was struck with something that appeared to me to be a stick, or 
the handle of a tomahawk, which caused me to fall to the ground. On 
my recovering my senses, I endeavored to renew my race ; but as I 
arose, some one cast sand in my eyes, which blinded me so that I could 
not see where to run. They continued beating me most intolerably, 
until I was at length insensible ; but before I lost my senses, I remem- 
ber my wishing them to strike the fatal blow, for I thought they in- 
tended killing me, but apprehended they were too long about it. The 
first thing I remember was my being in the fort, amidst the French and 
Indians, and a French doctor standing by me, who had opened a vein 
in my left arm ; after which the interpreter asked me how I did : I told 
him I felt much pain ; the doctor then washed my wounds, and the 
bruised places of my body, with French brandy. As I felt pain, and 
the brandy smelt well, I asked for some inwardly, but the doctor told 
me, by the interpreter, that it did not suit my case. 

When they found I could speak, a number of Indians came around 
me and examined me, with threats of cruel death if I did not tell the 
truth. The first question they asked me was, how many men were 



74 Our Western Border. 

there in the party that were coming from Pennsylvania to join Brad- 
dock ? I told them the truth, that there were three hundred. The next 
question was, were they all armed ? I told them they were all well 
armed, (meaning the arm of flesh,) for they had only about thirty guns 
among the whole of them; which, if the Indians had known, they 
would certainly have gone and cut them all off; therefore, I could not 
in conscience let them know the defenceless situation of the road-cut- 
ters. I was then sent to the hospital, and carefully attended by the 
doctors, and recovered quicker than what I expected. 

Some time after I was there, I was visited by the Delaware Indian al- 
ready mentioned, who was at the taking of me, and could speak some 
English. Though he spoke but . bad English, yet I found him to be a 
man of considerable understanding. I asked him if I had done any 
thing that had offended the Indians, which caused them to treat me so 
unmercifully ? He said no, it was only an old custom the Indians had, 
and it was like " how do you do ; " after that, he said, I would be well 
used. I asked him if I should be permitted to remain with the French? 
He said no — and told me, that, as soon as I recovered, I must not only 
go with the Indians, but must be made an Indian myself. I asked him 
what news from Braddock's army ? He said, the Indians spied them 
every day, and he showed me by making marks on the ground with a 
stick, that Braddock's army was advancing in very close order, and that 
the Indians would surround them, take trees, and (as he expressed it,) 
shoot um down all one pigeon. 

Shortly after this, on the 9th day of July, 1755, in the morning, I 
heard a great stir in the fort. As I could then walk with a staff in my 
hand, I went out of the door, which was just by the wall of the fort, 
and stood upon the wall and viewed the Indians in a huddle before the 
gate, where were barrels of powder, bullets, flints, &c, and every one 
taking what suited ; I saw the Indians also march off in rank entire — 
likewise the French Canadians, and some regulars. After viewing the 
Indians and French in different positions, I computed them to be about 
four hundred, and wondered that they attempted to go out against 
Braddock with so small a party. I was then in high hopes that I would 
soon see them fly before the British troops, and that General Braddock 
would take the fort and rescue me. 

I remained anxious to know the advent of this day ; and, in the after- 
noon, I again observed a great noise and commotion in the fort, and 
though at that time I could not understand French, yet I found that it 
v/as the voice of joy and triumph, and feared -that they had received 
what I called bad news. 

I had observed some of the old country soldiers speak Dutch ; as I 



Adventures of Col. James Smith. 75 

spoke Dutch, I went to one of them, and asked him, what was the 
news ? He told me that a runner had just arrived, who said that Brad- 
dock would certainly be defeated ; that the Indians and French had sur- 
rounded him, and were concealed behind trees and in gullies, and kept 
a constant fire upon the English, and that they saw the English falling 
in heaps, and if they did not take the river, which was the only gap, 
and make their escape, there would not be one man left alive before 
sundown. Some time after this I heard a number of scalp halloos, and 
saw a company of Indians and French coming in. I observed they had 
a great many bloody scalps, grenadiers' caps, British canteens, bayo- 
nets, &c, with them. They brought the news that Braddock was de- 
feated. After that, another company came in, which appeared to be 
about one hundred, and chiefly Indians, and it seemed to me that al- 
most every one of this company was carrying scalps ; after this came 
another company with a number of wagon horses, and also a great 
many scalps. Those that were coming in, and those that had arrived, 
kept a constant firing of small arms, and also the great guns in the fort, 
which were accompanied with the most hideous shouts and yells from 
all quarters ; so that it appeared to me as if the infernal regions had 
broke loose. 

About sundown I beheld a small party coming in with about a dozen 
prisoners, stripped naked, with their hands tied behind their backs, and 
part of their bodies blackened — these prisoners they burned to death on 
the bank of the Allegheny river opposite the fort. I stood on the fort 
wall until I beheld them begin to burn one of these men ; they had him 
tied to a stake, and kept touching him with fire-brands, red-hot irons, 
&c, and he screaming in the most doleful manner — the Indians in the 
meantime yelling like infernal spirits. As this scene appeared too 
shocking for me to behold, I retired to my lodgings both sore and sorry. 

When I came into my lodgings I saw Russel's Seven Sermons, which 
they had brought from the field of battle, which a Frenchman made a 
present of to me. From the best information I could receive, there 
were only seven Indians and four French killed in this battle, and five 
hundred British lay dead in the field, besides what were killed in the 
river on their retreat. The morning after the battle, I saw Braddock's 
artillery brought into the fort ; the same day I also saw several Indians 
in British officers' dress, with sash, half moons, laced hats, &c, which 
the British then wore. 

A few days after this the Indians demanded me, and I was obliged to 
go with them. I was not well able to march, but they took me in a 
canoe up the Allegheny river, to an Indian town, that was on the north 
side of the river, about forty miles above Fort Duquesne. Here I re- 



76 Our Western Border. 

raained about three weeks, and was then taken to an Indian town on 
the west branch of the Muskingum, about twenty miles above the forks, 
which was called Tullihas, which was inhabited by Dela wares, Caugh- 
newagas and Mohicans. 

The day after my arrival at the aforesaid town, a number of Indians 
collected about me, and one of them began to pull the hair out of my 
head. He had some ashes on a piece of bark, in which he frequently 
dipped his fingers, in order to take the firmer hold, and so he went on, 
as if he had been plucking a turkey, until he had all the hair clean out 
of my head, except a small spot about three or four inches square on 
my crown; this they cut off with a pair of scissors, excepting three 
locks, which they dressed up in their own mode. Two of these (hey 
wrapped round with a narrow beaded garter made by themselves for 
that purpose, and the other they plaited at full length, and then stuck it 
full of silver brooches. After this they bored my nose and ears, and 
fixed me off with ear-rings and nose jewels ; then they ordered me to 
strip off my clothes and put on a breech-clout, which I did ; they then 
painted my head, face and body, in various colors. They put a large 
belt of wampum on my neck, and silver bands on my hands and right 
arm ; and so an old chief led me out in the street, and gave the alarm 
halloo, coo-wigh, several times repeated quick ; and on this all that were 
in the town came running and stood round the old chief, who held me 
by the hand in the midst. 

Smith Ducked in the River by Three Squaws. 

As I at that time knew nothing of their mode of adoption and had 
seen them put to death all they had taken, and as I never could find 
that they saved a man alive at Braddock's defeat, I made no doubt but 
they were about putting me to death in some cruel manner. The old 
chief, holding me by the hand, made a long speech, very loud, and 
when he had done, he handed me to three young squaws, who led me 
by the hand down the bank, into the river, until the water was up to 
our middle. The squaws then made signs to me to plunge myself into 
the water, but I did not understand them — I thought that the result of 
the council was, that I should be drowned, and that these young ladies 
were to be the executioners. They all three laid violent hold of me, 
and I for some time opposed them with all my might, which occasioned 
loud laughter by the multitude that were on the bank of the river. At 
length one of the squaws made out to speak a little English, (for I be- 
lieve they began to be afraid of me,) and said no hurt you ; on this I 
gave myself up to their ladyships, who were as good as their word ; for 







ji _&_ ;"P1 



Smith Ducked in the River. 77 

though they plunged me under the water, and washed and rubbed me 
severely, yet I could not say they hurt me much. 

These young women then led me up to the council house, where some 
of the tribe were ready with new clothes for me. They gave me a new 
ruffled shirt, which I put on ; also a pair of leggins done off with rib- 
bons and beads; likewise a pair of moccasins, and garters dressed with 
beads, porcupine quills, and red hair — also a tinsel laced cappo. They 
again painted my head and face with various colors, and tied a bunch 
of red feathers to one of those locks they had left on the crown of my 
head, which stood up five or six inches. They seated me on a bear- 
skin, and gave me a pipe, tomahawk, and polecat-skin pouch, which 
had been skinned pocket fashion, and contained tobacco, killikinnick, 
or dry sumach leaves, which they mix with their tobacco — also spunk, 
flint and steel. When I was thus seated, the Indians came in dressed 
and painted in their grandest manner. As they came in they took their 
seats, and for a considerable time there was a profound silence — every 
one was smoking — but not a word was spoken among them. 

At length one of the chiefs made a speech, which was delivered to 
me by an interpreter, and was as folio weth: "My son, you are now 
flesh of our flesh, and bone ot our bone. By the ceremony which was 
performed this day, every drop of white blood was washed out of your 
veins; you are taken into the Caughnewaga nation, and initiated into 
a warlike tribe; you are adopted into a great family, and now received 
with great seriousness and solemnity in the room and place of a great 
man. After what has passed this day, you are now one of us by an old 
strong law and custom. My son, you have nothing to fear; we are now 
under the same obligations to love, support and defend you, that we are 
to love and defend one another; therefore, you are to consider yourself 
as one of our people." At this time I did not believe this fine speech, 
especially that of the white blood being washed out of me; but since 
that time I have found that there was much sincerity in said speech, — 
for, from that day, I never knew them to make any distinction between 
me and themselves in any respect whatever until I left them. If they had 
plenty of clothing I had plenty; if we were scarce, we all shared one fate. 

After this ceremony was over, I was introduced to my new kin, and 
told that I was to attend a feast that evening, which I did. And, as 
the custom was, they gave me also a bowl and wooden spoon, which I 
carried with me to the place, where there were a number of large brass 
kettles full of boiled venison and green corn ; every one advanced with 
his bowl and spoon, and had his share given him. After this one of the 
chiefs made a short speech, and then we began to eat. 

The name of one of the chiefs of this town was Tecanyaterighto, alias 



78 Our Western Border. 

Pluggy, and the other Asallecoa, alias Mohawk Solomon. As Pluggy 
and his party were to start the next day to war, to the frontiers of Vir- 
ginia, the next thing to be performed was the war dance, and their war 
songs. At their war dance they had both vocal and instrumental music 
— they had a short hollow gum, closed at one end, with water in it, and 
parchment stretched over the open end thereof, which they beat with 
one stick, and made a sound nearly like a muffled drum — all those who 
were going on this expedition collected together and formed. An old 
Indian then began to sing, and timed the music by beating on this drum, 
as the ancients formerly timed their music by beating the tabor. On 
this the warriors began to advance, or move forward in concert, like 
well-disciplined troops would march to the fife and drum. Each war- 
rior had a tomahawk, spear or war-mallet in his hand, and they all moved 
regularly towards the east, or the way they intended to go to war. At 
length they all stretched their tomahawks towards the Potomac, and giv- 
ing a hideous shout or yell, they wheeled quick about, and danced in 
the same manner back. 

The next was the war song. In performing this, only one sung at a 
time, in a moving posture, with a tomahawk in his hand, while all the 
other warriors were engaged in calling aloud he-uh, he-uh, which they 
constantly repeated while the war song was going on. When the war- 
rior that was singing had ended his song, he struck a war-post with his 
tomahawk, and with a loud voice told what warlike exploits he had done, 
and what he now intended to do, which were answered by the other 
warriors with loud shouts of applause. Some who had not before in- 
' tended to go to war, at this time were so animated by this performance 
that they took up the tomahawk and sung the war song, which was an- 
swered with shouts of joy, as they were then initiated into the present 
marching company. The next morning this company all collected at 
one place, with their heads and faces painted with various colors, and 
packs upon their backs : they marched off, all silent, except the com- 
mander, who, in the front, sung the traveling song. Just as the rear 
passed the end of the town, they began to fire in their slow manner, 
from the front to the rear, which was accompanied with shouts and yells 
from all quarters. 

This evening I was invited to another sort of dance, which was a kind 
of promiscuous dance. The young men stood in one rank, and the 
young women in another, about one rod apart, facing each other. The 
one that raised the tune, or started the song, held a small gourd or dry 
shell of a squash in his hand, which contained beads or small stones, 
which rattled. When he began to sing, he timed the tune with his rat- 
tle — both men and women danced and sung together, advancing towards 



Smith Ducked in the River. 79 

each other, stooping until their heads would be touching together, and 
then ceased from dancing, with loud shouts, and retreated and formed 
again, and so repeated the same thing over and over, for three or four 
hours, without intermission. This exercise appeared to me at first irra- 
tional and insipid; but I found that in singing their tunes, they used ya 
ne no hoo wa ne, dr'c, like our fa sol la, and though they have no such 
thing as jingling verse, yet they can intermix sentences with their notes, 
and say what they please to each other, and carry on the tune in con- 
cert. I found that this was a kind of wooing or courting dance, and as 
they advanced, stooping with their heads together, they could say what 
they pleased in each other's ear, without disconcerting their rough mu- 
sic, and the others, or those near, not hear what they said. 

Shortly after this I went out to hunt. We traveled about south from 
this town, and the first night we killed nothing, but we had with us 
green corn, which we roasted and ate that night. ■ The next day we 
encamped about twelve o'clock, and the hunters turned out to hunt, and 
I went down the run that we encamped on, in company with some 
squaws and boys, to hunt plums, which we found in great plenty, w! s 
remained at this camp about eight or ten days, and killed a number of 
deer. Though we had neither bread nor salt at this time, yet we had 
both roast and boiled meat in great plenty, and they were frequently 
inviting me to eat when I had no appetite. 

We then moved to the buffalo lick, where we killed several buffalo, 
and in their small brass kettles they made about half a bushel of salt. 
I suppose this lick was about thirty or forty miles from the aforesaid 
town, and somewhere between the Muskingum, Ohio and Scioto. 
About the lick was clear, open woods, and thin white-oak land, and at 
that time there were large roads leading to the lick, like wagon roads. 
"V^e moved from this lick about six or seven miles, and encamped on a 
creek. Though the Indians had given me a gun, I had not yet been 
permitted to go out * from the camp to hunt. At this place Mohawk 
Solomon asked me to go out with him to hunt, which I readily agreed 
to. After some time we came upon some fresh buffalo tracks. I had 
observed before this that the Indians were upon their guard, and afraid 
of an enemy ; for, until now, they and the southern nations had been 
at war. As we were following the buffalo tracks, Solomon seemed to 
be on his guard, went very slow, and would frequently stand and listen, 
and appeared to be in suspense. We came to where the tracks were 
very plain in the sand, and I said, it is surely buffalo tracks ; he said, 
hush, you know nothing — may be buffalo tracks, may be Catawba. He 
went very cautious until we found some fresh buffalo dung : he then 
smiled, 'and said Catawba cannot make so. 



SO Our Western Border. 

Cunning of the Catawbas — Smith Lost in the Woods. 

He then stopped and told me an odd story about the Catawbas. He 
said that formerly the Catawbas came near one of their hunting camps, 
and at some distance from the camp lay in ambush ; and in order to 
decoy them out, sent two or three Catawbas in the night past their 
camp, with buffalo hoofs fixed on their feet, so as to make artificial 
tracks. In the morning those in the camp followed after these tracks, 
thinking they were buffalo, until they were fired on by the Catawbas, 
and several of them killed ; the others fled, collected a party, and pur- 
sued the Catawbas ; but they, in their subtlety, brought with them rat- 
tlesnake poison, which they had collected from the bladder that lieth at 
the root of the snake's teeth ; this they had corked up in a short piece 
of a cane stalk ; they had also brought with them small cane or reed, 
about the size of a rye straw, which they made sharp at the end like a 
pen, and dipped them into the poison, and stuck them into the ground 
among the grass, along their own tracks, in such a position that they 
might stick into the legs of the pursuers, which answered the design ; 
and as the Catawbas had runners behind to watch the motion of the 
pursuers, when they found that a number of them were lame, being 
artificially snake bit, and that they were all turning back, the Catawbas 
turned upon the pursuers and defeated them, and killed and scalped all 
those that were lame. When Solomon had finished his story, and 
found that I understood him, he concluded by saying, You don't know, 
Catawba velly bad Indian, Catawba all one devil, Catawba. 

Some time after this I was told to take the dogs with me and go down 
the creek, perhaps I might kill a turkey ; it being in the afternoon, I 
was also told not to go far from the creek, and to come up the cree^ 
again to the camp, and to take care not to get lost. When I had gone 
some distance down the creek, I came upon fresh buffalo tracks, and as 
I had a number of dogs with me to stop the buffalo, I concluded I 
would follow after and kill one ; and as the grass and weeds were rank, 
I could readily follow the track. A little before sundown I despaired of 
coming up with them ; I was then thinking how I might get into camp 
before night; I concluded, as the buffalo had made several turns, if I took 
the track back to the creek it would be dark before I could get to the 
camp ; therefore I thought I would take a nearer way through the hills, 
and strike the creek a little below the camp ; but as it was cloudy 
weather, and I a very young woodsman, I could find neither creek nor 
camp. When night came on I fired my gun several times and hallooed, 
but could hear no answer. The next morning early the Indians were 
out after me, and as I had with me ten or a dozen dogs, and the grass 



Smith Lost in the Woods. 81 

and weeds rank, they could readily follow my track. When they came 
up with me, they appeared to be in a very good humor. I asked Solo- 
mon if he thought I was running away, he said, no, no, you go too much 
crooked. On my return to camp they took away my gun from me, and 
for this rash act I was reduced to a bow and arrows for near two years. 
W r e were out on this tour for about six weeks. 

When we returned to the town, Pluggy and his party had arrived, 
and brought with them a considerable number of scalps and prisoners 
from the south branch of the Potomac ; they also brought with them 
an English Bible, which they gave to a Dutch woman who was a pris- 
oner ; but as she could not read English, she made a present of it to 
me, which was very acceptable. I remained in this town until some 
time in October, when my adopted brother, called Tontileaugo, who 
had married a Wyandot squaw, took me with him to Lake Erie. 

On this route we had no horses with us, and when we started from 
the town all the pack I carried was a pouch, containing my books, a 
little dried venison, and my blanket. I had then no gun, but Ton- 
tileaugo, who was a first-rate hunter, carried a rifle gun, and every day 
killed deer, raccoons, or bears. We left the meat, excepting a little 
for present use, and carried the skins with us until we encamped, and 
then stretched them with elm bark on a frame made with poles stuck in 
the ground and tied together with lynn or elm bark ; and when the 
skins were dried by the fire we packed them up and carried them with 
us the next day. As Tontileaugo could not speak English, I had to 
make use of all the Caughnewaga I had learned even to talk very im- 
perfectly with him ; but I found I learned to talk Indian faster this 
way than when I had those with me who could speak English. As 
we proceeded down the Canesadooharie waters, our packs, increased 
by the skins that were daily killed, became so very heavy that we 
could not march more than eight or ten miles per day. We came to 
Lake Erie about six miles west of the mouth of Canesadooharie. As 
the wind was very high the evening we came to the lake, I wao sur- 
prised to hear the roaring of the water and see the high waves that 
dashed against the shore, like the ocean. We encamped on a run near 
the lake, and as the wind fell that night, the next morning the lake was 
only in a moderate motion, and we marched on the sand along the side 
of the water, frequently resting ourselves, as we were heavy laden. I 
saw on the strand a number of large fish, that had been left in flat or 
hollow places ; as the wind fell and the waves abated, they were left 
without water or only a small quantity; and numbers of bald and grey 
eagles, &c, were along the shore devouring them. 

Some time in the afternoon we came to a large camp of Wyandots, 



82 Our Western Border. 

at the mouth of Canesadooharie, where Tontileaugo's wife was. Here 
we were kindly received : they gave us a kind of rough, brown pota- 
toes, which grew spontaneously, and were called by the Caughnewagas, 
ohenata. These potatoes, peeled and dipped in raccoon's fat, taste 
nearly like our sweet potatoes. They also gave us what they call cane- 
he ant a, which is a kind of hominy, made of green corn, dried, and 
beans mixed together. We continued our camp at the mouth of 
Canesadooharie for some time, where we killed some deer and a great 
many raccoons ; the raccoons here were remarkably large and fat. At 
length we all embarked in a large birch-bark canoe. This vessel was 
about four feet wide and three feet deep, and about five and thirty feet 
long ; and though it could carry a heavy burden, it was so artfully and 
curiously constructed that four men could carry it several miles, or 
from one landing place to another, or from the waters of the lake to 
the waters of the Ohio. We proceeded up Canesadooharie a few miles 
and went on shore to hunt ; but to my great surprise they carried the 
vessel that we all came in up the bank, and inverted it or turned the 
bottom up, and converted it into a dwelling house, and kindled a fire 
before us to warm ourselves by and cook. With our baggage and our- 
selves in this house we were very much crowded, yet our little house 
turned off the rain very well. 

We kept moving and hunting up this river until we came to the falls; 
here we remained some weeks, and killed a number of deer, several 
bears, and a great many raccoons. While we remained here, I left my 
pouch with my books in camp, wrapped up in my blanket, and went 
out to hunt chestnuts. On my return to camp my books were missing. 
I inquired after them, and asked the Indians if they knew where they 
were ; they told me that they supposed the puppies had carried them 
off. I did not believe them, but thought they were displeased at my 
poring over my books, and concluded to destroy them, or put them out 
of my way. 

After this, I was again out after nuts, and on my return beheld a new 
erection, composed of two white-oak saplings, that were forked about 
twelve feet high, and stood about fifteen feet apart. They had cut 
these saplings at the forks, and laid a strong pole across, which appeared 
in the form of a gallows, and the posts they had shaved very smooth, 
and painted in places with vermilion. I could not conceive the use of 
this piece of work, and at length concluded it was a gallows. I thought 
that I had displeased them by reading my books, and that they were 
about putting me to death. The next morning I observed them bring- 
ing their skins all to this place, and hanging them over this pole, so as 
to preserve them from being injured by the weather. This removed 



Smith Lost in the Woods. 83 

my fears. They also buried their large canoe in the ground, which is 
the way they took to preserve this sort of a canoe in the Winter season. 

It was some time in December when we finished our Winter cabin ; 
but when we had got into this comparatively fine lodging, another diffi- 
culty arose — we had nothing to eat. While I was traveling with Ton- 
tileaugo, as was before mentioned, and had plenty of fat venison, bear's 
meat and raccoons, I then thought it was hard living without bread or 
salt ; but now I began to conclude, that if I had anything that would 
banish pinching hunger, and keep soul and body together, I would be 
content. While the hunters were all out, exerting themselves to the ut- 
most of their ability, the squaws and boys (in which class I was,) were 
scattered out in the bottoms, hunting red haws, black haws and hickory 
nuts. As it was too late in the year, we did not succeed in gathering 
haws ; but we had tolerable success in scratching up hickory nuts from 
under a light snow, which we carried with us lest the hunters should not 
succeed. After our return the hunters came in, who had killed only 
two small turkeys, which were but little among eight hunters, and thir- 
teen squaws, boys and children ; but they were divided with the greatest 
equity and justice — every one got their equal share. 

The next day the hunters turned out again, and killed one deer and 
three bears. One of the bears was very large and remarkably fat. The 
hunters carried in meat sufficient to give us all a hearty supper and 
breakfast. The squaws, and all that could carry, turned out to bring in 
meat — every one had their share assigned them, and my load was among 
the least ; yet, not being accustomed to carrying in this way, I got ex- 
ceeding weary, and told them my load was too heavy, I must leave part 
of it and come for it again. They made a halt, and only laughed at 
me, and took part of my load and added it to a young squaw's who 
had as much before as I carried. This kind of reproof had a greater 
tendency to excite me to exert myself in carrying without complaining, 
than if they had whipped me for laziness. After this the hunters held 
a council, and concluded that they must have horses to carry their 
loads ; and that they would go to war even in this inclement season, in 
order to bring in horses. 

Tontileaugo wished to be one of those who should go to war ; but 
the votes went against him ; as he was one of the best hunters, it was 
thought necessary to leave him ,at this Winter camp to provide for the 
squaws and children ; it was agreed upon that Tontileaugo and the three 
others should stay and hunt, and the other four go to war. They then 
began to go through their common ceremony. They sung their war 
songs, danced their dances, &c. And when they were equipped, they 
went off singing their marching song, and firing their guns. Our camp 



84 Our Western Border. 

appeared to be rejoicing ; but I was grieved to think that some innocent 
persons would be murdered, not thinking of danger. 

After the departure of these warriors we had hard times ; and though 
we were not altogether out of provisions, we were brought to short al- 
lowance. At length Tontileaugo had considerable success, and we had 
meat brought into camp sufficient to last ten days. Tontileaugo then 
took me with him in order to encamp some distance from this Winter 
cabin, to try his luck there. We carried no provision with us ; he said 
he would leave what was there for the squaws and children, and that we 
could shift for ourselves. We steered about a south course up the 
waters of the creek, and encamped about ten or twelve miles from the 
Winter cabin. As it was still cold weather and a crust upon the snow, 
which made a noise as we walked and alarmed the deer, we could kill 
nothing, and consequently went to sleep without supper. The only 
chance we had, under these circumstances, was to hunt bear holes, as 
the bears about Christmas search out a Winter lodging place, where 
they lie about three or four months without eating or drinking. 

Odd Ways of Hunting Bears, Foxes, Raccoons, &c. 

The next morning early we proceeded on, and when we found a tree 
scratched by the bears climbing up, and the hole in the tree sufficiently 
large for the reception of the bear, we then felled a sapling or small 
tree, against or near the hole ; and it was my business to climb up and 
drive out the bear, while Tontileaugo stood ready with his gun and 
bow. We went on in this manner until evening, without success ; at 
length we found a large elm scratched, and a hole in it about forty feet 
up ; but no tree nigh suitable to lodge against the hole. Tontileaugo 
got a long pole and some dry rotten wood, which he tied in bunches 
with bark ; and as there was a tree that grew near the elm, and ex- 
tended up near the hole, but leaned the wrong way, so that we could 
not lodge it to advantage, to remedy this inconvenience, he climbed up 
this tree and carried with him his rotten wood, fire and pole. The rot- 
ten wood he tied to his belt, and to one end of the pole he tied a hook 
and a piece of rotten wood, which he set fire to, as it would retain fire 
almost like spunk, and reached this hook from limb to limb as he went 
up ; when he got up, with this pole he put dry wood on fire into the 
hole ; after he put in the fire he heard the bear snuff, and he came 
speedily down, took his gun in his hand, and waited until the bear 
would come out ; but it was some time before it appeared, and when 
it did appear, he attempted taking sight with his rifle ; but it being then 
too dark to see the sights he set it down by a tree, and instantly bent 



Odd Ways of Hunting. 85 

his bow, took hold of an arrow, and shot the bear a little behind the 
shoulder ; I was preparing also to shoot an arrow, but he called to me 
to stop, there was no occasion; and with that the bear fell to the 
ground. 

Being very hungry we kindled a fire, opened the bear, took out the 
liver, and wrapped some of the caul fat round, and put it on a wooden 
spit, which we stuck in the ground by the fire to roast ; we then skinned 
the bear, got on our kettle, and had both roast and boiled, and also 
sauce to our meat, which appeared to me to be delicate fare. After I 
was fully satisfied I went to sleep; Tontileaugo awoke me saying, "Come ! 
eat hearty ! we have got meat plenty now." The next morning we cut 
down a lynn tree, peeled bark and made a snug little shelter, facing the 
south-east, with a large log betwixt us and the north-west ; we made a 
good fire before us, and scaffolded up our meat at one side. When we 
had finished our camp we went out to hunt, searched two trees for 
bears, but to no purpose. As the snow thawed a little in the afternoon,, 
Tontileaugo killed a deer, which we carried with us to camp. 

The next day we turned out to hunt, and near the camp we found a 
tree well scratched ; but the hole was above forty feet high, and no tree 
that we could lodge against the hole ; but finding that it was very hol- 
low, we concluded that we would cut down the tree with our tomahawks,, 
which kept us working a considerable part of the day. When the tree 
fell we ran up. Tontileaugo with his gun and bow, and I with my bow 
ready bent. Tontileaugo shot the bear through with his rifle a little be- 
hind the shoulders ; I also shot, but too far back ; and not being then 
much accustomed to the business, my arrow penetrated only a few 
inches through the skin. Having killed an old she bear and three cubs, 
we hauled her on the snow to the camp, and only had time afterwards 
to get wood, make a fire, cook, &c, before dark. Early next morning 
we went to business, searched several trees, but found no bears. On 
our way home we took three raccoons out of a hollow elm, not far from 
the ground. We remained here about two weeks, and in this time 
killed four bears, three deer, several turkeys and a number of raccoons. 
We packed up as much meat as we could carry, and returned to our 
Winter cabin. On our arrival, there was great joy, as they were all in a 
starving condition — the three hunters that we had left having killed but 
very little. All that could carry a pack, repaired to our camp to bring 
in meat. Some time in February the four warriors returned, who had 
taken two scalps, and six horses from the frontiers of Pennsylvania. 
The hunters could then scatter out a considerable distance from the 
Winter cabin, and encamp, kill meat and bring it in upon horses ; so 
that we commonly after this had plenty of provisions. 



86 Our Western Border. 

The way that we generally used our maple sugar while encamped, 
was by putting it in bear's fat until the fat was almost as sweet as the 
sugar itself, and in this we dipped our roasted venison. About this time 
some of the Indian lads and myself were employed in making and at- 
tending traps for catching raccoons, foxes, wild cats, &c. As the raccoon 
is a kind of water animal, that frequents the runs or small water courses, 
almost the whole night, we made our traps on the runs, by laying one 
small sapling on another, and driving in posts to keep them from roll- 
ing. The upper sapling was raised about eighteen inches, and set so 
that on the raccoon's touching a string or small piece of bark, the sap- 
ling would fall and kill it; and lest the raccoon should pass by, we laid 
brush on both sides of the run, only leaving the channel open. 

The fox traps we made nearly in the same manner, at the end of a 
hollow log, or opposite to a hole at the root of a tree, and put venison 
on a stick for bait : we had it so set that when the fox took hold of the 
meat the trap fell. While the squaws were employed in making sugar, 
the boys and men were engaged in hunting and trapping. About the 
latter end of March, we began to prepare for moving into town, in or- 
der to plant corn: the squaws were then frying the last of their bear's 
fat, and making vessels to hold it : the vessels were made of deer skins, 
which were skinned by pulling the skin off the neck, without ripping. 
After they had taken off the hair, they gathered it in small plaits round 
the neck, and, with a string, drew it together like a purse : in the cen- 
tre a pin was put, below which they tied a string, and while it was wet 
they blew it up like a bladder, and let it remain in this manner until it 
was dry, when it appeared nearly in the shape of a sugar loaf, but more 
rounding at the lower end. One of these vessels would hold about four 
or five gallons; in these vessels it was they carried their bear's oil. 

When all things were ready, we moved back to the falls of Canesa- 
dooharie. On our arrival at the falls, (as we had brought with us on 
horseback about two hundred weight of sugar, a large quantity of bear's 
oil, skins, &c.,) the canoe we had buried was not sufficient to carry all; 
therefore we were obliged to make another of elm bark. While we lay 
here, a young Wyandot found my books : on this they collected togeth- 
er ; I was a little way from the camp, and saw the collection, but did 
not know what it meant. They called me by my Indian name, which 
was Scoouwa, repeatedly. I ran to see what was the matter; they 
showed me my books, and said they were glad they had been found, for 
they knew I was grieved at the loss of them, and that they now rejoiced 
with me because they were found. As I could then speak some Indian, 
especially Caughnewaga, (for both that and the Wyandot tongue were 
spoken in this camp,) I told them that I thanked them for the kindness 



Attempt to Run Down Horses. 87 

they had always shown to me, and also for finding my books. They 
asked if the books were damaged. I told them not much. They then 
showed how they lay, which was in the best manner to turn off the wa- 
ter. In £ deer-skin pouch they lay all Winter. The print was not much 
injured, though the binding was. This was the first time that I felt my 
heart warm towards the Indians. Though they had been exceedingly 
kind to me, I still detested them, on account of the barbarity I be- 
held after Braddock's defeat. Neither had I ever before pretended 
kindness, or expressed myself in a friendly manner ; but I began now 
to excuse the Indians on account of their want of information. 

When we were ready to embark, Tontileaugo would not go to town, 
but go up the river and take a hunt. He asked me if I choosed to go 
with him ? I told him I did. We then got some sugar, bear's oil bot- 
tled up in a bear's gut, and some dry venison, which we packed up and 
went to Canesadooharie, about thirty miles, and encamped. At this 
time I did not know either the day of the week or the month ; but I 
supposed it to be about the first of April. We had considerable success 
in our business. We also found some stray horses, or a horse, mare, 
and a young colt ; and though they had run in the woods all Winter, 
they were in exceeding good order. There is plenty of grass here all 
Winter, under the snow, and horses accustomed to the woods can work 
it out. These horses had run in the woods until they were very wild. 

Attempt to Run Down Horses — Scolded for Helping Squaws. 

Tontileaugo one night concluded that we must run them down. I 
told him I thought we could not accomplish it. He said he had run 
down bears, buffaloes and elks ; and in the great plains, with only a 
small snow on the ground, he had run down a deer ; and he thought 
that in one whole day he could tire or run down any four-footed animal 
except a wolf. I told him that though a deer was the swiftest animal to 
run a short distance, yet it would tire sooner than a horse. He said he 
would at all events try the experiment. He had heard the Wyandots 
say that I could run well, and now he would see whether I could or not. 
I told him that I never had run all day, and of course was not accus- 
tomed to that way of running. I never had run with the Wyandots 
more than seven or eight miles at one time. He said that was nothing, 
we must either catch these horses, or run all day. 

In the morning early we left camp, and about sunrise we started after 
them, stripped naked excepting breech-clout and moccasins. About 
ten o'clock I lost sight of both Tontileaugo and the horses, and did not 
see them again until about three o'clock in the afternoon. As the horses 



88 Our Western Border. 

run all day, in about three or four miles square, at length they passed 
where I was, and I fell in close after them. As I then had a long rest, 
I endeavored to keep ahead of Tontileaugo, and after some time I could 
hear him after me, calling chakah, chakoanaugh, which signifies, "pull 
away ! " or "do your best ! " We pursued on, and after some time Tonti- 
leaugo passed me, and about an hour before sundown we despaired of 
catching these horses, and returned to camp, where we had left our 
clothes. I reminded Tontileaugo of what I had told him : he replied 
fie did not know what horses could do. They are wonderful strong to 
run ; but withal we made them very tired. Tontileaugo then concluded 
he would do as the Indians did with wild horses when out at war; which 
is to shoot them through the neck under the mane, and above the bone, 
which will cause them to fall and lie until they can halter them, and 
then they recover again. This he attempted to do ; but as the mare 
was very wild, he could not get sufficiently nigh to shoot her in the pro- 
per place ; however, he shot, the ball passed too low, and killed her. As 
the horse and colt stayed at this place, we caught the horse and took 
him and the colt with us to camp. 

We stayed at this camp about two weeks, and killed a number of 
bears, raccoons, and some beavers. We made a canoe of elm bark, and 
Tontileaugo embarked in it. He arrived at the falls that night; whilst 
I, mounted on horseback, with a bear-skin saddle and bark stirrups, 
proceeded by land to the falls : I came there the next morning, and we 
carried our canoe and loading past the falls. We again proceeded to- 
wards the lake, I on horseback, and Tontileaugo by water. Here the 
land is generally good, but I found some difficulty in getting round 
swamps and ponds. When we came to the lake, I proceeded along 
the strand, and Tontileaugo near the shore, sometimes paddling, and 
sometimes poling his canoe along. 

After some time the wind arose, and he went into the mouth of a 
small creek and disappeared. Here we stayed several days on account 
of high wind, which raised the lake in great billows. While we were 
here, Tontileaugo went out to hunt, and when he was gone a Wyandot 
came to our camp; I gave him a shoulder of venison which I had by 
the fire, well roasted, and he received it gladly, told me he was hungry, 
and thanked me for my kindness. When Tontileaugo came home I told 
him that a Wyandot had been at camp, and that I gave him a shoulder 
of venison: he said that was very well, and I suppose you gave him also 
sugar and bear's oil, to eat with his venison. I told him I did not ; as 
the sugar and bear's oil was down in the canoe, I did not go for it. He 
replied, "you have behaved just like a Dutchman. Do you not know 
that when strangers come to our camp, we ought always to give them 



Scolded for Helping Squaws. 89 

the best we have." I acknowledged that I was wrong. He said that he 
could excuse this, as I was but young; but I must learn to behave like 
a warrior, and do great things, and never be found in any such little 
actions. 

After I had got my new clothes, and my head done off like a red- 
headed wood-pecker, I, in company with a number of small Indians, 
went down to the corn-field to see the squaws at work. When we came 
there they asked me to take a hoe, which I did, and hoed for some time. 
The squaws applauded me as a good hand at the business ; but when I 
returned to the town, the old men, hearing of what I had done, chid 
me, and said that I was adopted in the place of a great man, and must 
not hoe corn like a squaw. They never had occasion to reprove me 
for anything like this again ; as I never was extremely fond of work, I 
readily complied with their orders. 

As the Indians, on their return from their Winter hunt, bring in with 
them large quantities of bear's oil, sugar, dried venison, &c, at this 
time they have plenty, and do not spare eating or giving — thus they 
make away with their provisions as quick as possible. They have no 
such thing as regular meals, breakfast, dinner or supper ; but if any 
one, even the town folks, would go to the same house several times in 
one day, he would be invited to eat of the best — and with them it is 
bad manners to refuse to eat when it is offered. If they will not eat, it 
is interpreted as a symptom of displeasure, or that the persons refusing 
to eat were angry with those who invited them. 

At this time, hominy, plentifully mixed with bear's oil and sugar, is 
what they offer to every one who comes in any time of the day ; and so 
they go on until their sugar, bear's oil and venison are all gone, and then 
they have to eat hominy by itself, without bread, salt, or anything else; 
yet still they invite every one that comes in to eat whilst they have any- 
thing to give. It is thought a shame not to invite people to eat while 
they have anything ; but if they can, in truth, only say, we have got 
nothing to eat, this is accepted as an honorable apology. All the 
hunters and warriors continued in town about six weeks after we came 
in ; they spent the time in painting, going from house to house, eating, 
smoking, and playing at a game resembling dice or hustle cap. They 
put a number of plum stones in a small bowl ; one side of each stone 
is black, and the other white ; they then shake or hustle the bowl, call- 
ing hits, hits, hits, honesy, honesy, rego, rego, which signifies calling for 
white or black, or what they wish to turn up ; they then turn the bowl 
and count the whites and blacks. Some were beating their kind of 
drum and singing ; others were employed in playing on a sort of flute, 
made of hollow cane ; and others playing on the Jew's harp. Some 



90 Our Western Border. 

part of this time was also taken up in attending the council house, where 
the chiefs, and as many others as chose, attended ; and at night they 
were frequently employed in singing and dancing. Towards the last 
of this time, which was in June, 1756, they were all engaged in pre- 
paring to go to war against the frontiers of Virginia : when they were 
equipped they went through their ceremonies, sung their war songs, &c. 
They all marched off, from fifteen to sixteen years of age ; and some 
boys, only twelve years old, were equipped with their bows and arrows, 
and went to war ; so that none were left in town but squaws and chil- 
dren, except myself, one very old man, and another about fifty years 
of age, who was lame. 

When the warriors left the town we had neither meat, sugar or bear's 
oil left. All that we had then to live on was corn pounded into coarse 
meal or small hominy — this they boiled in water, which appeared like 
well thickened soup, without salt or anything else. For some time we 
had plenty of this kind of hominy ; at length we were brought to very 
short allowance, and as the warriors did not return as soon as they ex- 
pected, we were in a starving condition, and but one gun in the town, 
and very little ammunition. The old lame Wyandot concluded that he 
would go a hunting in the canoe, and take me with him, and try to kill 
deer in the water, as it was then watering time. We went up the Sandusky 
a few miles, then turned up a creek and encamped. We had lights pre- 
pared, as we were to hunt in the night, and also a piece of bark and 
some bushes set up in the canoe, in order to conceal ourselves from the 
deer. A little boy that was with us held the light; I worked the 
canoe, and the old man, who had his gun loaded with large shot, when 
we came near the deer, fired, and in this manner killed three deer in 
part of one night. We went to our fire, ate heartily, and in the morn- 
ing returned to town, in order to relieve the hungry and distressed. 

When we came to town, the children were crying bitterly on account 
of pinching hunger. We delivered what we had taken ; and though it 
was but little among so many, it was divided according to the strictest 
rules of justice. We immediately set out for another hunt, but before 
we returned a party of the warriors had come in, and brought with 
them, on horseback, a quantity of meat. These warriors had divided 
into different parties, and all struck at different places in Augusta coun- 
ty. They brought in with them a considerable number of scalps, pris- 
oners, horses, and other plunder. One of the parties brought in with 
them one Arthur Campbell, that is now Colonel Campbell, who lives 
on the Holston river, near the Royal Oak. As the Wyandots at Sun- 
yendeand and those at Detroit were connected, Mr. Campbell was 
taken to Detroit ; but he remained some time with me in this town ; 



Scolded for Helping Squaws. 91 

his company was very agreeable, and I was sorry when he left me. 
During his stay at Sunyendeand he borrowed my Bible, and made some 
pertinent remarks on what he had read. One passage where it is said 
" It is good for a man that he bear the yoke in his youth." He said 
we ought to be resigned to the will of Providence, as we were now 
bearing the yoke in our youth. Mr. Campbell appeared to be then 
about sixteen or seventeen years of age. 

There were a number of prisoners brought in by these parties, and 
when they were to run the gauntlet, I went and told them how they 
were to act. One John Savage was brought in, a middle-aged man 
of about forty years old. He was to run the gauntlet. I told him 
what he had to do ; and after this I fell into one of the ranks with the 
Indians, shouting and yelling like them ; and as they were not very 
severe on him, as he passed me I hit him with a piece of a pumpkin — 
which pleased the Indians very much, but hurt my feelings. About the 
time that these warriors came in, the green corn was beginning to be of 
use, so that we had either green corn or venison, and sometimes both, 
which was comparatively high living. When we could have plenty of 
green corn, or roasting corn, the hunters became lazy, and spent their 
time, as already mentioned, in singing and dancing, &c. They ap- 
peared to' be fulfilling the Scriptures beyond those who profess to be- 
lieve them, in that of taking no thought of to-morrow; and also in 
love, peace and friendship together, without dispute. In this manner 
we lived until October; then the geese, swans, ducks, cranes, &c, 
came from the North, and alighted on this little lake in an incredi- 
ble number. Sunyendeand is a remarkable place for fish in the 
Spring, and fowl both in the Fall and Spring. As our hunters were 
now tired with indolence, and fond of their own kind of exercise, they 
all turned out to fowling, and in this could scarce miss of success ; so 
that we had now plenty of hominy and the best of fowls ; and some- 
times, as a rarity, we had a little bread made of Indian corn meal, 
pounded in a hominy block, mixed with boiled beans, and baked into 
cakes under the ashes. This, with us, was called good living, though 
not equal to our fat roasted and boiled venison, when we went to the 
woods in the Fall ; or bear's meat and beaver in the Winter ; or sugar, 
bear's oil and dry venison in the Spring. 

Some time in October, another adopted brother, older than Ton- 
tileaugo, came to pay us a visit at Sunyendeand, and asked me to take 
a hunt with him on Cuyahoga. I then went with Tecaughretanego to 
the mouth of the little lake, where we met with the company he in- 
tended going with, which was composed of Caughnewagas and Otta- 
was. Here I was introduced to a Caughnewaga sister, and others I had 



J>2 Our Western Border. 

never before seen. My sister's name was Mary, which they pro- 
nounced Maully. I asked Tecaughretanego how it came that she had 
an English name ; he said that he did not know that it was an English 
name ; but it was the name the priest gave her when she was baptized, 
which he said was the name of the Mother of Jesus. He said there 
were a great many of the Caughnewagas and Wyandots that were a 
kind of half Roman Catholics; but as for himself, he said that the 
priest and him could not agree. i 

The Ottawas have a very useful kind of tents, which they carry with 
them, made of flags, plaited and stitched together in a very artful man- 
ner, so as to turn the rain and the wind well. Each. mat is made fif- 
teen feet long and about five feet broad. In order to erect this kind of 
tent, they cut a number of long straight poles, which they drive in the 
ground in the form of a circle, leaning inwards ; then they spread the 
mats on these poles, beginning at the bottom and extending up, leaving 
only a hole in the top uncovered — and this hole answers the place of a 
chimney. They make fire of dry split wood in the middle, and spread 
down bark mats and skins for bedding, on which they sleep in a 
crooked posture, all round the fire, as the length of their beds will not 
admit of stretching themselves. In place of a door they lift up one 
end of a mat and creep in, and let the mat fall down behind them. 
These tents are warm and dry, and tolerably clear of smoke. Their 
lumber they keep under birch-bark canoes, which they carry out and 
turn up for a shelter, where they keep everything from the rain. 
Nothing is in the tents but themselves and their bedding. 

About the first of December, 1755, we were preparing for leaving the 
river : we buried our canoes, and as usual hung up our skins, and every 
one had a pack to carry ; the squaws also packed up their tents, which 
they carried in large rolls, that extended up above their heads ; and 
though a great bulk, yet not heavy. We steered about a south-east course, 
and could not march over ten miles per day. At night we lodged in our 
flag tents, which, when erected, were nearly in the shape of a sugar-loaf, 
and about fifteen feet diameter at the ground. In this manner we pro- 
ceeded about forty miles and wintered in these tents, on the waters of 
Beaver Creek, near a little lake or pond, which is about two miles long, 
and one broad, a remarkable place for beaver. 

Haeits of the Beaver — Smith Snowed Up and Lost. 

In conversation with Tecaughretanego, I happened to be talking of 
the beavers catching fish. He asked me why I thought that the beaver 
caught fish ? I told him that I had read of the beaver making dams for 



Habits of the Beaver. 93 

the convenience of fishing. He laughed, and made game of me and my 
book. He said the man that wrote that book knew nothing about the 
beaver. The beaver never did eat flesh of any kind, but lived on the 
bark of trees, roots, and vegetable matter. In order to know certainly 
how this was, when we killed a beaver I carefully examined the intestines, 
but found no appearance of fish ; I afterwards made an experiment on a 
beaver which we had, and found that it would neither eat fish nor flesh ; 
therefore I acknowledged that the book that I had read was wrong. 

I asked Tecaughretanego, what was the use of the beaver's stones, or 
glands, to them — as the she beaver has two pair, which are commonly 
called the oil stones, and the bark stones ? He said that as the beavers 
are the dumbest of all animals and scarcely ever make any noise ; and 
as they were working creatures, they made use of this smell in order to 
work in concert. If an old beaver was to come on the bank and rub his 
breech upon the ground and raise a perfume, the others will collect 
from different places and go to work ; this is also of use to them in 
traveling, that they may thereby search out and find their company. 
Cunning hunters finding this out, have made use of it against the bea- 
vers, in order to catch them. What is the bait which you see them make 
use of, but a compound of the oil and bark stones. By this perfume, 
which is only a false signal, they decoy them to the trap. 

Near this pond, beaver was the principal game. Before the water 
froze up, we caught a great many with wooden and steel traps ; but after 
that, we hunted the beaver on the ice. Some places here the beavers 
build large houses to live in ; and in other places they have subterrane- 
ous lodgings in the banks. Where they lodge in the ground, we have 
no chance of hunting on the ice ; but where they have houses, we go 
with malls and handspikes, and break all the hollow ice, to prevent them 
from getting their heads above the water under it. Then we break a 
hole in the house, and they make their escape into the water ; but as 
they cannot live long under water, they are obliged to go to some of 
those broken places to breathe, and the Indians commonly put in their 
hands, catch them by the hind leg, haul them on the ice, and tomahawk 
them. Sometimes they shoot them in the head, when they raise it above 
the water. I asked the Indians if they were not afraid to catch the 
beavers with their hands ; they said no : they were not much of a biting 
creature ; yet if they would catch them by the fore foot they would bite. 

As it began to snow and blow most violently, I returned and proceeded 
after my company, and for some time could see their tracks ; but the old 
snow being about three inches deep, and a crust upon it, the present 
driving snow soon filled up the tracks. As I had only a bow, arrows 
and tomahawk with me, and no way to strike fire, I appeared to be in a 



94 Our Western Border, 

a 

dismal situation — and as the air was dark with snow, I had little more 
prospect of steering my course than I would in the night. At length I 
came to a hollow tree, with a hole at one side that I could go in' at. I 
went in, and found that it was a dry place, and the hollow about three 
feet diameter, and high enough for me to stand in. I found that there 
was also a considerable quantity of soft, dry, rotten wood around this 
hollow ; I therefore concluded that I would lodge here, and that I would 
go to work, and stop up the door of my house. I stripped off my 
blanket, (which was all the clothes that I had, excepting breech-clout, 
leggins and moccasins,) and, with my tomahawk, fell to chopping at the 
top of a fallen tree that lay near, and carried wood and set it up on end 
against the door, until I had it three or four feet thick, all around, ex- 
cepting a hole I had left to creep in at. I had a block prepared that I 
could haul after me, to stop this hole ; and before I went in I put in a 
number of small sticks, that I might more effectually stop it on the inside. 
When I went in, I took my tomahawk and cut down all the dry, rotten 
wood I could get, and beat it small. With it I made a bed like a goose- 
nest or hog-bed, and with the small sticks stopped every hole, until my 
house was almost dark. I stripped off my moccasins, and danced in 
the centre of my bed for about half an hour, in order to warm myself. 
In this time my feet and whole body were agreeably warmed. The 
snow, in the meanwhile, had stopped all the holes, so that my house was 
as dark as a dungeon ; though I knew that it could not be dark out of 
doors. I then coiled myself up in my blanket, lay down in my little 
round bed, and had a tolerable night's lodging. 

When I awoke, all was dark — not the least glimmering of light was 
to be seen. Immediately I recollected that I was not to expect light 
in this new habitation, as there was neither door or window in it. As 
I could hear the storm raging, and did not suffer much cold as I was 
then situated, I concluded I would stay in my nest until I was certain it 
was day. When I had reason to conclude that it surely was day, I arose 
and put on my moccasins, which I had laid under my head to keep 
from freezing. I then endeavored to find the door, and had to do all 
by the sense of feeling, which took me some time. At length I found 
the block, but it being heavy, and a large quantity of snow having 
fallen on it, at the first attempt I did not move it. I then felt terrified 
— among all the hardships I had sustained, I never knew before what it 
was to be thus deprived of light. This, with the other circumstances 
attending it, appeared grievous. I went straightway to bed again, 
wrapped my blanket round me, and lay and mused awhile, and then 
prayed to Almighty God to direct and protect me, as he had done here- 
tofore. I once again attempted to move away the block, which proved 



Smith Snowed Up and Lost. 95 

successful ; it moved about nine inches — -with this a considerable 
quantity of snow fell in from above, and I immediately received light ; 
so that I found a very great snow had fallen, above what I had ever 
seen in one night. I then knew why I could not easily move the 
block, and I was so rejoiced at obtaining the light, that all my other 
difficulties seemed to vanish. I then turned into my cell and returned 
God thanks for having once more received the light of Heaven. At 
length I belted my blanket about me, got my tomahawk, bow and ar- 
rows, and went out of my den. 

I was now in tolerable high spirits, though the snow had fallen above 
three feet deep, in addition to what was on the ground before ; and the 
only imperfect guide I had, in order to steer my course to camp, was 
the trees, as the moss generally grows on the north-west side of them, if 
they are straight. I proceeded on, wading through the snow, and 
about twelve o'clock (as it appeared afterwards, from that time to night, 
for it was yet cloudy,) I came upon the creek that our camp was on, 
about half a mile below the camp ; and when I came in sight of the 
camp, I found that there was great joy, by the shouts and yelling of the 
boys, &c. 

When I arrived, they all came around me and received me gladly ; 
but at this time no questions were asked, and I was taken into a tent, 
where they gave me plenty of fat beaver meat, and then asked me to 
smoke. When I had done, Tecaughretanego desired me to walk out to 
a fire they had made. I went out, and they all collected round me, 
both men, women and boys. Tecaughretanego asked me to give them 
a particular account of what had happened from the time they left me 
yesterday until now. I told them the whole of the story, and they 
never interrupted me ; but when I made a stop, the intervals were filled 
with loud acclamations of joy. As I could not at this time talk Ottawa 
or Jibbewa well, (which is nearly the same,) I delivered my story in 
Caughnewaga. As my sister Molly's husband was a Jibbewa, and could 
understand Caughnewaga, he acted as interpreter, and delivered my story 
to the Jibbewas and Ottawas, which they received with pleasure. When 
all this was done, Tecaughretanego made a speech to me in the follow- 
ing manner : 

"Brother: — You see we had prepared snow-shoes to go after you, 
and were almost ready to go when you appeared ; yet, as you had not 
been accustomed to hardships in your country to the east, we never ex- 
pected to see you alive. Now, we are glad to see you in various re- 
spects \ we are glad to see you on your own account, and we are glad 
to see the prospect of your filling the place of a great man, in whose 
room you were adopted. We do not blame you for what has happened, 



96 Our Western Border. 

we blame ourselves ; because we did not think of this driving snow fill- 
ing up the tracks, until after we came to camp. 

"Brother: — Your conduct on this occasion hath pleased us much; 
you have given us an evidence of your fortitude, skill and resolution ; 
and we hope you will always go on to do great actions, as it is only 
great actions that can make a great man." 

The next morning some of the hunters went out on snow-shoes, 
killed several deer, and hauled some of them into camp upon the snow. 
They fixed their carrying-strings (which are broad in the middle and 
small at each end) in the fore feet and the nose of the deer, and laid 
the broad part of it on their head or about their shoulders, and pulled 
it along ; and when k is moving, it will not sink in the snow much 
deeper than a snow-shoe ; and when taken with the grain of the hair, 
slips along very easily. The snow-shoes are made like a hoop net, and 
wrought with buckskin thongs. Each shoe is about two feet and 
a half long, and' about eighteen inches abroad before, and small be- 
hind, with cross bars, in order to fix or tie them to the feet. After the 
snow had lain a few days, the Indians tomahawked the deer by pursuing 
them in this manner. 

About two weeks after this there came a warm rain and took away 
the chief part of the snow, and broke up the ice ; then we engaged in 
making wooden traps to catch beavers, as we had but few steel traps. 
These traps are made nearly in the same manner as the raccoon traps 
already described. One day as I was looking after my traps I got be- 
nighted, by beaver ponds intercepting my way to camp ; and as I had 
neglected to take fire-works with me, and the weather was very cold, I could 
find no suitable lodging place ; therefore, the only expedient I could 
think of to keep myself from freezing, was exercise. I danced and 
hallooed the whole night with all my night, and the next day came to 
camp. Though I suffered much more this time than the other night Hay 
out, yet the Indians were not so much concerned, as they thought I had 
fire-works with me ; but when they knew how it was, they did not blame 
me. They said that old hunters were frequently involved in this place, 
as the beaver dams were one above another on every creek and run, so 
that it is hard to find a fording place. They applauded me for my 
fortitude, and said as they had now plenty of beaver skins, they would 
purchase me a gun at Detroit, as we were to go there the next Spring ; 
and then if I should chance to be lost in dark weather, I could make 
fire, kill provision, and return to camp when the sun shined. By being 
bewildered on the waters of the Muskingum, I lost repute, and was re- 
duced to the bow and arrow, and by lying out two nights here I re- 
gained my credit. 



Singular Indian Customs. 97 

Singular Indian Customs — An Indian Drinking Frolic. 

After some time the waters all froze again, and then, as formerly, we 
hunted beavers on the ice. Though beaver meat, without salt or bread, 
was the chief of our food this Winter, yet we had always plenty, and I 
was well contented with my diet, as it appeared delicious fare, after the 
way we had lived the Winter before. Some time in February we scaf- 
folded up our furs and skins, and moved about ten miles in quest of a 
sugar camp, or a suitable place to make sugar, and encamped in a large 
bottom on the headwaters of Big Beaver Creek. We had some diffi- 
culty in moving, as we had a blind Caughnewaga boy, about fifteen 
years of age, to lead; and as this country is very brushy, we frequently 
had him to carry. We had also my Jibbewa brother-in-law's father with 
us, who was thought by the Indians to be a great conjurer — his name 
was Manetohcoa. This old man was so decrepid that we had to carry 
him this route upon a bier, and all our baggage to pack upon our backs. 

Shortly after we came to this place, the squaws began to make sugar. 
We had no large kettles with us this year, and they made the frost, in 
some measure, supply the place of fire, in making sugar. Their large 
bark vessels, for holding the stock water, they made broad and shallow; 
and as the weather is very cold here, it frequently freezes at night in 
sugar time ; and the ice they break and cast out of the vessels. I asked 
them if they were not throwing away the sugar? They said, no: it was 
water they were casting away, sugar did not freeze, and there was 
scarcely any in that ice. They said I might try the experiment, and 
boil some of it, and see what I would get. I never did try it ; but I 
observed that after several times freezing, the water that remained in 
the vessel changed its color, and became brown and very sweet. 

About the time we were done making sugar the snow went off the 
ground; and one night a squaw raised an alarm: she said she saw two 
men with guns in their hands, upon the bank on the other side of the 
creek, spying our tents — they were supposed to be Johnson's Mohawks. 
On this the squaws were ordered to slip quietly out some distance into 
the bushes; and all who had either guns or bows were to squat in the 
bushes near the tents; and if the enemy rushed up, we were to give 
them the first fire, and let the squaws have an opportunity of escaping. 
I got down beside Tecaughretanego, and he whispered to me not to be 
afraid, for he would speak to the Mohawks, and as they spoke the same 
tongue that we did, they would not hurt the Caughnewagas or me, but 
they would kill all the Jibbewas and Ottawas that they could, and take 
us along with them. This news pleased me well, and I heartily wished 
for the approach of the Mohawks. 



98 Our Western Border. 

Before we withdrew from the tents, they had carried Manetohcoa to 
the fire, and gave him his conjuring tools, which were dyed feathers, the 
bone of a shoulder-blade of a wild-cat, tobacco, &c. ; and while we were 
in the bushes, Manetohcoa was in a tent at the fire, conjuring away to 
the utmost of his ability. At length he called aloud for us all to come 
in, which was quickly obeyed. When we came in, he told us that after 
he had gone through the whole of his ceremony, and expected to see a 
number of Mohawks on the flat bone when it was warmed at the fire, 
the pictures of two wolves only appeared. He said that though there 
were no Mohawks about, we must not be angry with the squaw for giv- 
ing a false alarm; as she had occasion to go out and happened to see 
the wolves, though it was moonlight, yet she got afraid, and she con- 
ceited it was Indians with guns in their hands ; so he said we might all 
go to sleep, for there was no danger — and accordingly we did. 

The next morning we went to the place, and found wolf tracks, and 
where they had scratched with their feet like dogs ; but there was no 
sign of moccasin tracks. If there is any such thing as a wizard, I think 
Manetohcoa was as likely to be one as any man, as he was a professed 
worshiper of the devil. But let him be a conjurer or not, I am per- 
suaded that the Indians believed what he told them on this occasion as 
well as if it had come from an infallible oracle ; or they would not, af- 
ter such an alarm as this, go all to sleep in an unconcerned manner. 
This appeared to me the most like witchcraft of anything I beheld while 
I was with them. 

Some time in March, 1 75 7, we began to move back to the forks of 
Cuyahoga, which was about forty or fifty miles ; and as we had no 
horses, we had all our baggage and several hundred weight of beaver 
skins, and some deer and bear skins — all to pack on our backs. The 
method we took to accomplish this, was by making short day's journeys. 
In the morning we would move on with as much as we were able to car- 
ry, about five miles, and encamp, and then run back for more. We com- 
monly made three such trips in the day. When we came to the great 
pond, we staid there one day to rest ourselves, and to kill ducks and 
geese. 

I remember that Tecaughretanego, when something displeased him, 
said, "God damn it !" I asked him if he knew what he then said ? He 
said he did, and mentioned one of their degrading expressions, which 
he supposed to be the meaning, or something like the meaning, of what 
he had said. I told him that it. did not bear the least resemblance to 
it ; that what he had said was calling upon the Great Spirit to punish 
the object he was displeased with. He stood for some time amazed, 
and then said, if these be the meaning of these words, what sort of peo- 



y* 



An Indian Drinking Frolic. 99 

pie are the whites ? When the traders were among us, these words seem 
to be intermixed with all their discourse. He told me to reconsider 
what I had said, for he thought I must be mistaken in my definition ; if 
I was not mistaken, he said the traders applied these words not only 
wickedly, but oftentimes very foolishly and contrary to sense or reason, 
He said he remembered once of a trader's accidentally breaking his 
gun-lock, and on that occasion calling out aloud, God damn it — surely 
said he, the gun-lock was not an object worthy of punishment for Owan- 
aneeyo, or the Great Spirit ; he also observed the traders often used this 
expression when they were in a good humor, and not displeased with 
anything. I acknowledged that the traders used this expression very 
often, in a most irrational, inconsistent and impious manner ; yet I still 
asserted that I had given the true meaning of these words. He replied, 
if so, the traders are as bad as Oonasharoona, or the underground in- 
habitants, which is the name they give the devils, as they entertain a 
notion that their place of residence is under the earth. 

We took up our birch-bark canoes, which we had buried, and found 
that they were not damaged by the Winter ; but they not being sufficient 
to carry all that we now had, we made a large chestnut-bark canoe, as 
elm bark was not to be found at this place. We all embarked, and had 
a very agreeable passage down the Cuyahoga, and along the south side 
of Lake Erie, until we passed the mouth of the Sandusky ; then the wind 
arose, and we put in at the mouth of the Miami of the Lake, at Cedar 
Point, where we remained several days, and killed a number of turkeys, 
geese, ducks and swans. The wind being fair, and the lake not ex- 
tremely rough, we again embarked, hoisted up sails, and arrived safe at 
the W T yandot town, nearly opposite to Fort Detroit, on the north side 
of the river. Here we found a number of French traders, every one 
very willing to deal with us for our beaver. 

We bought ourselves fine clothes, ammunition, paint, tobacco, &c, 
and, according to promise, they purchased me a new gun ; yet we had 
parted with only about one-third of our beaver. At length a trader 
came to town with French brandy : we purchased a keg of it, and held 
a council about who was to get drunk, and who was to keep sober. I 
w-as invited to get drunk, but I refused the proposal — then they said that 
I must be one of those who were to take care of the drunken people. I 
did not like this ; but of two evils I chose that which I thought was the 
least — and fell in with those who were to conceal the arms, and keep 
every dangerous weapon we could out of their way, and endeavor, if 
possible, to keep the drinking club from killing each other, which was a 
very hard task. Several times we hazarded our own lives, and got our- 
selves hurt, in preventing them from slaying each other. Before they 



100 Our Western Border. 

had finished this keg, near one-third of the town was introduced to this 
drinking club ; they could not pay their part, as they had already dis- 
posed of all their skins; but that made no odds — all were welcome to 
drink. 

When they were done with this keg, they applied to the traders, and 
procured a kettle full of brandy at a time, which they divided out with 
a large wooden spoon — and so they went on, and never quit while they 
had a single beaver skin. When the trader had got all our beaver, he 
moved off to the Ottawa town, about a mile from the Wyandot town. 
When the brandy was gone, and the drinking club sober, they appeared 
much dejected. Some of them were crippled, others badly wounded, a 
number of their fine new shirts torn, and several blankets were burned. 
A number of squaws were also in this club, and neglected their corn 
planting. We could now hear the effects of the brandy in the Ottawa 
town. They were singing and yelling in the most hideous manner, both 
night and day; but their frolic ended worse than ours; five Ottawas 
were killed, and a great many wounded. 

After this a number of young Indians were getting their ears cut, and 
they urged me to have mine cut likewise, but they did not attempt to 
compel me, though they endeavored to persuade me. The principal 
arguments they used were, its being a great ornament, and also the com- 
mon fashion. The former I did not believe, and the latter I could not 
deny. The way they performed this operation was by cutting the fleshy 
part of the circle of the ear close to the gristle, quite through. When 
this was done, they wrapt rags round this fleshy part until it was en- 
tirely healed ; they then hung lead to it, and stretched it to a wonderful 
length ; when it was sufficiently stretched, they wrapped the fleshy part 
round with brass wire, which formed it into a semicircle, about four 
inches diameter. 

Many of the young men were now exercising themselves in a game 
resembling foot ball ; though they commonly struck the ball with a 
crooked stick made for that purpose ; also a game something like this, 
wherein they used a wooden ball, about three inches diameter, and the 
instrument they moved it with was a strong staff, about five feet long, 
with a hoop-net on the end of it large enough to contain the ball. Be- 
fore they begin the play, they lay off about half a mile distance in a 
clear plain, and the opposite parties all attend at the centre, where a 
disinterested person casts up the ball, then the opposite parties all con- 
tend for it. If any one gets it into his net, he runs with it the way he 
wishes to go, and they all pursue him. If one of the opposite party 
overtakes the person with the ball, he gives the staff a stroke, which 
causes the ball to fly out of the net; then they have a debate for it, and 



Indian Deer Drive and Ring Hunt. 101 

if the one that gets it can outrun all the opposite party, and can carry 
it quite out, or over the line at the end, the game is won ; but this sel- 
dom happens. When any one is running away with the ball, and is 
likely to be overtaken, he commonly throws it, and, with this instru- 
ment, can cast it fifty or sixty yards. Sometimes, when the ball is at one 
end, matters will take a sudden turn, and the opposite party may quickly 
carry it out at the other end. Oftentimes they will work a long while 
back and forward, before they can get the ball over the line, or win the 
game. 

About the first of November, a number of families were preparing to 
go on their Winter hunt, and all agreed to cross the lake together. We 
encamped at the mouth of the river the first night, and a council was 
held, whether we should cross through by the three islands, or coast it 
round the lake. These islands lie in a line across the lake, and are just 
in sight of each other. Some of the Wyandots or Ottawas frequently 
make their Winter hunt on these islands ; though, excepting wild fowl 
and fish, there is scarcely any game here but raccoons, which are amaz- 
ingly plenty, and exceedingly large and fat ; as they feed upon the wild 
rice, which grows in abundance in wet places round these islands. It is 
said that each hunter, in one Winter, will catch one thousand raccoons. 
As the raccoons here lodge in rocks, the trappers make their wooden 
traps at the mouth of the holes ; and as they go daily to look at their 
traps, in the Winter season they commonly find them filled with rac- 
coons ; but in the Spring, or when the frost is out of the ground, they 
say they can find their traps filled with large rattlesnakes ; and there- 
fore conclude that the raccoons are transformed. They also say that 
the reason why they are so remarkably plenty in the Winter is, every 
Fall the snakes turn into raccoons again. 

Indian "Deer Drive" and "Ring Hunt" — Novel Fishing. 

We concluded to coast it round the lake, and in two days we came to 
the mouth of the Miami of the Lake, and landed on Cedar Point, where 
we remained several days. Here we held a council, and concluded we 
would take a driving hunt in concert, and in partnership. The river in 
this place is about a mile broad, and as it and the lake forms a kind of 
neck, which terminates in a point, all the hunters (which were fifty- 
three) went up the river, and we scattered ourselves from the river to 
the lake. When we first began to move, we were not in sight of each other, 
but as we all raised the yell, we could move regularly together by the 
noise. At length we came in sight of each other and appeared to be 
marching in good order ; before we came to the point, both the squaws 



102 Our Western Border. 

and boys in the canoes were scattered up the river and along the lake, 
to prevent the deer from making their escape by water. As we advanced 
near the point, the guns began to crack slowly ; and after some time the 
firing was like a little engagement. The squaws and boys were busy 
tomahawking the deer in the water, and we shooting them down on the 
land ; we killed in all about thirty deer, though a great many made their 
escape by water. 

We had now great feasting and rejoicing, as we had plenty of hominy, 
venison and wild fowl. The geese at this time appeared to be preparing 
to make southward. As cold weather was now approaching, we began 
to feel the doleful effects of extravagantly and foolishly spending the 
large quantity of beaver we had taken in our last Winter's hunt. We 
were all nearly in the same circumstances — scarcely one had a shirt to 
his back ; but each of us had an old blanket which we belted round us 
in the day, and slept in at night, with a deer or bear skin under us for 
our bed. 

When we came to this place, we met with some Ottawa hunters, and 
agreed with them to take what they call a ring hunt, in partnership. We 
waited until we expected rain was near falling to extinguish the fire, and 
then we kindled a large circle in the prairie. At this time, or before 
the bucks began to run, a great number of deer lay concealed in the 
grass in the day, and moved about in the night; but as the fire burned 
in towards the centre of the circle, the deer fled before the fire ; the 
Indians were scattered also at some distance before the fire, and shot 
them down every opportunity, which was very frequent, especially as 
the circle became small. When we came to divide the deer, there were 
about ten to each hunter, which were all killed in a few hours. The 
rain did not come on that night to put out the outside circle of the fire, 
and as the wind arose, it extended through the whole prairie, which was 
about fifty miles in length, and in some places nearly twenty in breadth. 
This put an end to our ring hunting this season, and was in other 
respects an injury to us in the hunting business ; so that upon the whole 
we received more harm than benefit by our rapid hunting frolic. We 
then moved from the north end of the glades and encamped at the 
carrying place. 

After some time, one of Tontileaugo's step-sons, (a lad of about 
eight years of age,) offended him, and he gave the boy a moderate 
whipping, which much displeased his Wyandot wife. She acknowl- 
edged that the boy was guilty of a fault, but thought that he ought to 
have been ducked, which is their usual mode of chastisement. She 
said she could not bear having her son whipped like a servant or slave — 
and she was so displeased that when Tontileaugo went out to hunt she 



Novel Fishing. 103 

got her two horses and all her effects, (as in this country the husband 
and wife have separate interests,) and moved back to the Wyandot 
camp that we had left. 

When Tontileaugo returned he was much disturbed on hearing of his 
wife's elopement, and said that he would never go after her were it not 
that he was afraid that she would get bewildered, and that his children, 
that she had taken with her, might suffer. Tontileaugo went after his 
wife, and when they met they made up the quarrel, but he never re- 
turned, but left Tecaughretanego and his son, (a boy about ten years 
of age,) and myself, who remained here in our hut all Winter. 
Tecaughretanego had been a first-rate warrior, statesman and hunter, 
and though he was now near sixty years of age, was yet equal to the 
common run of hunters, but subject to rheumatism, which deprived 
him of the use of his legs. 

Shortly after Tontileaugo left us, Tecaughretanego became lame, and 
could scarcely walk out of our hut for two months. I had considerable 
success in hunting and trapping. Though Tecaughretanego endured 
much pain and misery, yet he bore it all with wonderful patience, and 
would often endeavor to entertain me with cheerful conversation. 
Sometimes he would applaud me for my diligence, skill and activity— 
and at other times he would take great care in giving me instructions 
concerning the hunting and trapping business. He would also tell me 
that if I failed of success we would suffer very much, as we were about 
forty miles from any one living that we knew of; yet he would not in- 
timate that he apprehended we were in any danger, but still supposed 
that I was fully adequate to the task. 

When we came to the little lake at the mouth of Sandusky, we called 
at a Wyandot town that was then there, called Sunyendeand. Here we 
diverted ourselves several days, by catching rock fish in a small creek, 
the name of which is also Sunyendeand, which signifies rock fish. They 
fished in the night with lights, and struck the fish with gigs or spears. 
The rock fish there, when they begin first to run up the creek to spawn, 
are exceedingly fat, sufficiently so to fry of themselves. The first night 
we scarcely caught fish enough for present use, for all that was in the 
town. 

The next morning I met with a prisoner at this place by the name of 
Thompson, who had been taken from Virginia. He told me, if the In- 
dians would only omit disturbing the fish for one night, he could catch 
more fish than the whole town could make use of. I told Mr. Thomp- 
son that if he knew he could do this, that I would use my influence 
with the Indians, to let the fish alone for one night. I applied to the 
chiefs, who agreed to my proposal, and said they were anxious to see 



104 Our Western Border. 

what the Big Knife (as they called the Virginian) could do. Mr. 
Thompson, with the assistance of some other prisoners, set to work, 
and made a hoop-net of elm bark ; they then cut down a tree across the 
creek, and stuck in stakes at the lower side of it to prevent the fish from 
passing up, leaving only a gap at the one side of the creek ; here he sat 
with his net, and when he felt the fish touch the net he drew it up, and 
frequently would haul out two or three rock fish that would weigh about 
five or six pounds each. He continued at this until he had hauled out 
a wagon load, and then left the gap open, in order to let them pass up, 
for they could not go far on account of the shallow water. Before day 
Mr. Thompson shut it up, to prevent them from passing down, in or- 
der to let the Indians have some diversion in killing them in daylight. 
When the news of the fish came to town, the Indians all collected, 
and with surprise beheld the large heap of fish, and applauded the in- 
genuity of the Virginian. When they saw the number of them that 
were confined in the water above the tree, the young Indians ran back 
to the town, and in a short time returned with their spears, gigs, bows 
and arrows, &c, and were the chief part of that day engaged in killing 
rock fish, insomuch that we had more than we could use or preserve. 
As we had no salt, or any way to keep them, great numbers of turkey 
buzzards and eagles collected together and devoured them. 

Some time in July, 1758, the Ottawas, Jibbewas, Potowatomies and 
Wyandots, rendezvoused at Detroit, and marched off to Fort Duquesne, 
to prepare for the encounter of General Forbes. The common report 
was, that they would serve him as they did General Braddock and ob- 
tain much plunder. From this time until Fall, we had frequent ac- 
counts of Forbes' army, by Indian runners, that were sent out to watch 
their motions. They espied them frequently from the mountains ever 
after they left Fort Loudon. Notwithstanding their vigilance, Colonel 
Grant, with his Highlanders, stole a march upon them, and in the night 
took possession of a hill about eighty rods from Fort Duquesne ; this 
hill is, on that account, called Grant's Hill to this day. The French 
and Indians knew not that Grant and his men were there, until they 
beat the drum and played upon the bagpipes, just at daylight. They 
then flew to arms, and the Indians ran up under cover of the banks of 
the Allegheny and Monongahela, for some distance, and then sallied 
out from the banks of the rivers, and took possession of the hill above 
Grant; and as he was on the point of it, in sight of the fort, they imme- 
diately surrounded him; and as he had his Highlanders in ranks, and in 
very close order, and the Indians scattered and concealed behind trees, 
they defeated him with the loss only of a few warriors — most of the 
Highlanders were killed or taken prisoners. 



Smith's Marriage. 105 

When Tecaughretanego had heard the particulars of Grant's defeat, 
he said he could not well account for his contradictory and inconsistent 
conduct. He said, as the art of war consists in ambushing and sur- 
prising our enemies, and in preventing them from ambushing and sur- 
prising us, Grant, in the first place, acted like a wise and experienced 
officer, in artfully approaching in the night without being discovered ; 
but when he came to the place, and the Indians were lying asleep outside 
of the fort, between him and the Allegheny river, in place of slipping up 
quietly and falling upon them with their broadswords, they beat the 
drums and played upon the bagpipes. He said he could account for 
this inconsistent conduct in no other way than by supposing that he had 
made too free with spirituous liquors during the night, and became in- 
toxicated about daylight. 

In April, 1759, Smith accompanied his Indian relatives to Montreal, 
and managed to secrete himself on board a French ship ; was again 
taken prisoner and confined for four months ; was finally exchanged, 
and reached home in 1760, to find his old sweet-heart married, and all 
supposing him dead. They were much surprised to see him so like an 
Indian in looks, gait and gesture. 

Smith's Marriage — A Wilderness Hermit — Takes a British Fort. 

In May, 1763, Smith married, and the same year the Indians again 
commenced to harass the whole Pennsylvania frontier. Very many 
of the inhabitants deserted their plantations, while those who remained 
raised and maintained bodies of riflemen. Smith was elected Captain 
of one of these troops of rangers, who were all dressed in Indian 
fashion. They did good service, scouring the whole line of frontier. 
He then accepted an ensigncy in the British regular service, which he 
soon after resigned and took service under General Armstrong. In 
'64, he went as Lieutenant on Bouquet's expedition against the western 
Indians. 

The next year savage marauds and scalpings again took place, and as 
the traders were, contrary to law, furnishing the savages with goods, 
guns and ammunition, the back country was greatly excited. Smith, 
however, was not content with grumbling, but took a more summary 
course. Selecting ten of his old Indian fighters, he painted and dis- 
guised them, and waylaid a company of traders, firing on their pack- 
horses from front to rear of their line, putting them to flight and 
burning up all their war-like goods. The traders complained at Fort 
Loudon, and securing a party of Highland soldiers, arrested a number 
of persons not at all concerned in the action. Smith at once raised 



106 Our Western Border. 

three hundred riflemen, marched to the fort, and soon took enough of 
British troops in his possession to redeem all the prisoners. They also 
made continued war upon the traders, and kept guard and watch on the 
frontiers for several months. 

In '66, Smith, captivated by the reports of the rich game country in 
the West, proceeded, with four active young fellows from Carlisle and 
a mulatto slave boy, and explored Kentucky and the region south of 
it (this was before Boone's time) ; also the region watered by the Cum- 
berland and Tennessee rivers. Following the latter stream to the Ohio, 
his companions concluded to go to explore the Illinois country, but 
Smith determined to go east, through the vast wilderness, to Carolina. 
Taking only a little powder, he started off on his long and adventurous 
journey, accompanied only by the mulatto lad. 

After about eight days of wilderness tramping, Smith received a 
painful cane stab in the foot ; his leg commenced to swell, and finally 
became so intolerably painful that he had to perform a surgical opera- 
tion in order to draw the huge splinter from his foot. He had nothing 
but a knife, a moccasin awl and a pair of bullet-moulds. But these, 
with the aid of the faithful darkey, proved efficient, but they were com- 
pelled to lie by here many, many weeks. He made the darkey hunt 
up Indian fomentations and poultices, using wood mosses instead of 
rags, and wrapping the whole around with elm-bark. A shelter was 
made with branches covered over with cane-tops, about a hundred 
yards distant from a regular buffalo trace, and with the aid of a Psalm 
Book and Watts upon Prayer, the two hermits got along very com- 
fortably, Smith even composing poetry. 

Some weeks after, Smith was able to travel slowly, and the two moved 
on, arriving in Carolina in October. He had, as he quaintly writes, 
' 'been now eleven months in the wilderness, and during this time I 
neither saw bread, money, women nor spirituous liquors, and three 
months of which I saw none of the human species except Jamie. When 
I came into the settlement, my clothes were almost worn out, and the 
boy had nothing on him that ever was spun — buckskin leggings, moc- 
casins and breech-clout, a bear skin, dressed with the hair on, and a rac- 
coon-skin cap. I was strictly examined by the inhabitants. I told 
them the truth, and where I came from, &c, but my story appeared so 
strange to them that they didn't believe me, asserting they had never heard 
of any one coming through the mountains from the mouth of the Ten- 
nessee, and if any undertook such a journey, surely no man would lend 
him his slave. On suspicion, they therefore took me into custody, and 
set a guard over me." 

Meeting soon with an old acquaintance who vouched for him, poor 



Takes a British Fort. 107 

Smith was liberated, and, with an old beaver hat and blanket, buckskin 
leggins, moccasins, and a new shirt, which his pitying friend gave him, 
he marched on with Jamie, clad in his rough bear skin, and the twain 
presenting such a wild and uncouth spectacle, that Smith avers the 
dogs would come out and bark at them, and the settlers frequently 
stopped them on suspicion. He soon after obtained good clothes and 
a horse, and then, adds he, "no man ever asked me for a pass ; there- 
fore, I concluded that a horse thief, or even a robber, might pass with- 
out interruption provided he was only well dressed, whereas the shabby 
villain would be immediately detected." 

In the Fall of 1767, Smith reached home, his wife and friends having 
again given him up as dead, since they had heard he was killed by In- 
dians, and his horse brought into one of the Cherokee towns. In 1769, 
he and his "Indian boys" again commenced his war on the Indian- 
traders, for which some of his companions were arrested and lodged in Bed- 
ford jail — then, of course, a British post. Smith did not approve of the 
conduct of some of those who were arrested, but he could not bear to 
think of them chafing in irons, and so he boldly resolved to attempt a 
grand rescue. Collecting eighteen of his "black boys," he openly 
marched, with the avowed design of taking Fort Bedford, but employ- 
ed a friend to go before as a spy. The next day they encamped near 
the crossings of the Juniata, about fourteen miles from the fort, and 
commenced erecting tents, as though intending to stay all night. None 
but Smith knew differently. At eleven at night, however, he roused 
his band and marched rapidly on towards the fort. Meeting his spy, he 
was told that the commandant had put thirty men on guard, and ridi- 
culed the very idea of such a small rabble taking the fort. 

Smith, finding the gate shut, moved his men quietly up under the 
Juniata's banks, where they lay concealed about a hundred yards from 
the fort gate. Soon as he found the gates open in the morning, the 
arms standing stacked, and the guards taking their morning dram, he, 
with his trusty followers, made a sudden rush inside the gate and took 
possession of the arms. They then raised a yell, hurriedly proceeded 
to the guard-house, found a blacksmith to remove the irons off the 
prisoners, and taking them all with them, rapidly left the place. " This, 
I believe," modestly adds Smith, " was the first British fort in America 
that was taken by what they called ' American rebels.' " 

Some time after, while Smith was quietly riding from Bedford, en 
route to visit his lands located on the Yough, he was overtaken by some 
travelers on horseback who asked his name, and on his telling it, they 
pulled out their pistols and threatened to kill him if he didn't surrender 
himself as prisoner. But Smith was not that kind of a man. He 



108 Our Western Border. 

stepped back, upped with his rifle, and upon one of the party snapping 
a pistol at him, let drive, dropping his enemy to the earth. The party, 
however, now made a rush on him, seized him, put him in Bedford 
guard-house, and held an inquest, bringing in Smith guilty of murder. 
As they were afraid to keep him at Bedford for fear of a rescue, he was 
sent privately to Carlisle, where he was heavily ironed and securely 
guarded. 

Smith's arrest, it may well be supposed, created a terrible pother in 
the country round about. Hearing that a number of the old " black 
boys" were coming to tear down the jail, he told the sheriff he would 
not be rescued, but would stand his trial, and wrote a letter asking his 
old companions to keep off. They, hearing he was in irons, however, 
would come on. Smith asked the sheriff to take off his irons and he 
would make them a speech. This he did, begging them as the greatest 
favor his friends could do for him, to keep away and let him stand trial. 
That he was innocent and would surely be released. They retired but 
soon after met another force of three hundred rescuers, when the 
whole party returned to Carlisle and asserted that as he could never get 
a fair trial, they were resolved to rescue him. These also were per- 
suaded to move off without attempting any violence. 

Smith remained in prison four months, and when the Supreme Court 
sat, had his trial, the upshot of which was a verdict of "not guilty." 
Smith now quieted down and became a substantial citizen. In 1774, an- 
other Indian war commenced, in which Smith acted as Captain. At 
the outbreak of the Revolution, he was elected a member of the State 
Assembly, and afterwards headed his old Indian fighters and went on a 
scouting expedition against the British in Jersey. Preceding Washing- 
ton, they waylaid the road at Rocky Hill, and wirii only thirty-six men 
attacked and defeated a force of two hundred. They afterwards made 
captive a lot of Hessians. Smith was soon seized with camp fever and 
lay at Burlington a long time. He then tried to get permission to raise 
a battalion of riflemen, to be dressed as Indians and to act as scouts, 
but Washington did not favor the idea, but offered him a majorship, 
which Smith, wishing to be with his own boys, declined. 

In 1778, Smith secured a Colonel's commission, and was diligently and 
constantly employed protecting our frontier against British Indians. 
Soon after he commanded four hundred riflemen on a successful expe- 
dition against the French Creek Indians, and in 1788 he migrated West 
and settled in Bourbon county, Kentucky, representing his district in 
Assembly down to the present century. 



Captain jack, the Wild Hunter of the Juniata, 109 



CAPTAIN JACK, "THE WILD HUNTER OF THE JUNIATA." 

About this period there flourished along the Pennsylvania border — at 
that time scarce extending much beyond the Susquehanna — a notable 
character by the name of Captain Jack, who was almost as much famed 
as his Indian namesake of Modoc notoriety has lately become. Al- 
though there is much of legend and mystery connected about the Juni- 
ata-valley Jack, this much is certain, that there was a bold hunter and 
"Indian-killer," known all along the Pennsylvania border, from the up- 
per Susquehanna down to the Potomac, by that name. In Hazard's 
Register there is frequent mention of him. Colonel Armstrong, in his 
reports of his expedition against Captain Jacobs of the Delaware vil- 
lage of Kittanning, calls him — on account of his swarthy visage — "The 
Half-Indian." His monument can be now seen at Chambersburg, 
with the following inscription: "Colonel Patrick Jack, an officer of the 
Colonial and Revolutionary wars — died January 25th, 182 1, aged nine- 
ty-one years." 

Colonel George Croghan, who, while Braddock was preparing for his 
march, was engaged in beating up a number of Indians, scouts, etc., 
to serve as guides, distinctly states that Captain Jack was at the head of 
a body of bold hunter-rangers, skilled in woodcraft, expert in Indian 
fighting, clad, like their leader, in Indian attire, and offered them to 
Braddock, provided they were allowed to dress, march and fight as they 
pleased, and not to be subject to the strict regulations of a soldier's 
camp. "They are well armed," said Croghan, "and are equally re- 
gardless of heat or cold. They require no shelter for the night, a?id 
ask no pay /" This, of course, could not be permitted by such a strict 
and self-reliant martinet as Braddock, and the Rangers were suffered to 
depart. It is idle now to speculate what might have been the result of 
the British Expedition had these scouts, and a larger body of fighting 
Indians been allowed to accompany, or rather precede Braddock's army. 
Judging, however, from the late invaluable services of the Warm Spring 
Indians in tracking the Modocs to their lairs, beating up their fastnesses 
in the lava-beds, and bringing them to bay in such manner that nothing 
was left but surrender, it is certainly safe to assume that these Pennsyl- 
vania Rangers and Indians would have performed the same offices for 
Braddock, and rendered wholly impossible the disastrous defeat which 
we have taken such pains to describe. 

Captain Jack's early history is shrouded in mystery, but it is the cur- 
rent tradition in middle Pennsylvania that he was a frontier settler, and 



110 Our Western Border. 

that returning one evening from a long day's chase, he found his cabin 
a heap of smouldering ruins, and the blackened corpses of his murdered 
family scattered around. From that time he became a rancorous Indian 
hater and slayer. In '53 he held a sort of roving commission from 
Governor Hamilton — his home being in the Juniata valley — going un- 
der the names of "The Black Rifle," "The Black Hunter," and "The 
Wild Hunter of the Juniata." It is thought by some that "Jack's 
Mountain," in Pennsylvania, was called after him; but this, we think, 
is a mistake ; it, as well as "Jack's Narrows," having taken their name 
from the fact — which caused a great deal of excitement at the time — of 
the atrocious murder, in 1744, of a noted Indian trader named Jack 
Armstrong, together with his two servants, Smith and Woodward, by a 
Delaware Chief called Musemeelin. 

In Jones' "Juniata Valley," we find a lengthy account of Captain 
Jack. He makes him a hunter living on the Juniata, near a beautiful 
spring, having a mystery about him which no one ever succeeded in- 
fathoming. He is described by Jones as a man of Herculean propor- 
tions, with an extremely swarthy complexion, and as a relentless Indian 
tracker and killer. The settlers about Aughwick (now Shirleysburg, 
Huntingdon county, Pa.,) as well as those in Path Valley and along the 
Juniata, "frequently found dead savages, some in a state of partial 
decay, and others with their flesh stripped by the bald eagles, on the 
spot where Jack's rifle had laid them low." "On one occasion," writes 
Jones, "Captain Jack had concealed himself in the woods by the side 
of the 'Aughwick Path,' where he lay in wait for a stray Indian. Pres- 
ently a painted warrior, with a red feather waving from his head, and 
his body bedizened with gew-gaws recently purchased from a trader, 
came down the 'path.' A crack from Captain Jack's rifle, and the 
savage bounded into the air and fell dead without a groan. It appears 
that three others were in company — but had tarried at a spring — who, 
on hearing the discharge of a rifle, under the impression that their com- 
panion had shot a bear, gave a loud 'whoop.' Captain Jack imme- 
diately loaded, and when the Indians came up to the dead body, Jack 
again shot and killed a second one. The Indians then rushed into the 
thicket, and one of them getting a glimpse of Jack, shot at him, but 
missed. The 'Wild Hunter/ seeing that the chances were desperate, 
jumped out and engaged in a hand-to-hand encounter — the fourth savage 
being only armed with a tomahawk. He soon dispatched the third one 
by beating his brains out with a rifle ; but the fourth one, an athletic, 
fellow, grappled, and a long and bloody fight with knives followed, and 
only ceased when both were exhausted by loss of blood. The Indian 
managed to get away, and left the 'Black Hunter' the victor of the 



Captain Jack, the Wild Hunter of the Juniata, 111 

field. Weak and faint as Jack was, he scalped the three savages, and 
managed to work his way to the settlement, where his wounds — consist- 
ing of eight or ten stabs — were dressed." 

"It is said," continues Jones, "that one night the family of an Irish- 
man named Moore, residing in Aughwick, were suddenly awakened by 
the report of a gun. On opening the door, they found a dead Indian 
lying upon the very threshold. By the feeble light which shone through 
the door, they discovered the dim outline of the 'Wild Hunter,' who 
merely said: 'I have saved your lives,' and then plunged into the dark 
ravine and disappeared. With an eye like the eagle, an aim that was 
unerring, daring intrepidity, and a constitution that could brave the 
heat of Summer as well as the frosts of Winter, he roamed the valley like 
an uncaged tiger, the most formidable foe that ever crossed the red- 
man's path. Of the final end of Captain Jack," concludes Jones, "we 
have nothing definite. One account says he went west, another that he 
died in 1772. It is said that his bones rest near the spring at the base 
of the mountain bearing his name, and this we are inclined to credit. 
The early settlers of the neighborhood believed that Captain Jack came 
down from the mountain every night at twelve o'clock to slake his thirst 
at his favorite spring; and half a century ago we might readily have 
produced the affidavits of twenty respectable men who had seen the 
' Black Hunter ' in the spirit, roaming over the land that was his in the 
flesh. The towering mountain, a hundred miles in length, bearing his 
name, will stand as an indestructible monument to his memory." 



Chapter II. 



THE CONSPIRACY OF PONTIAC. 

For he was of unblenching eye, 

Honored in youth, revered in age ; 
Of princely port and bearing high, 

And brave and eloquent and sage. 
Ah, scorn not that a tawny skin 

Wrapped his strong limbs and ample breast ; 
A noble soul was pent within 

As paler Saxon e'er possessed. 
Oft hath he gazed from yonder height, 
When pausing 'mid the chase alone, 
On the fair realms beneath his sight, 

And proudly called them all his own. — J. H. Bryant. 

Upon the evacuation of Fort Duquesne, most of Forbes' army re- 
crossed the mountains, he himself being carried in a litter the whole 
way, and dying shortly after at Philadelphia. As the possession of the 
Forks of the Ohio was of immense importance to the whole country, it 
was determined to hold them, and for the present to erect a small stock- 
ade to be occupied by one hundred men, under Colonel Hugh Mercer — . 
afterwards one of the most popular Generals of the Revolution and 
killed at the battle of Princeton. In September, 1759, was commenced 
the formidable fortification called Fort Pitt, which was completed the 
next year, having cost the British government sixty thousand pounds. 

With Fort Duquesne's fall, all direct contest between the French and 
British ceased in the West. Canada was thenceforth the only scene of 
operations, though garrisons for awhile remained in the forts on French 
Creek. In '59 Ticonderoga, Crown Point, Niagara, and at length 
Quebec assaulted by the famous Wolfe from the "Plains of Abra- 
ham " yielded to the British, and in the Fall of '6o, Montreal, De- 
troit, and all Canada were surrendered by Vaudreuil, the French Gov- 
ernor. 

The long war was at length over ; but it still remained to take posses- 
sion of the frontier French posts, and it was while Major Rogers, cap- 
tain of the far-famed American rangers, (half hunters, half woodsmen,) 
and a most gallant and skillful partisan officer, was marching to the 
front, that we first hear of the great and immortal Pontiac, the most 



The Conspiracy of Pontiac. 113 

noble and powerful Indian Chief that has ever appeared on the pages 
of American history. Rogers had left Montreal with two hundred of 
his rangers in fifteen whale-boats. Skirting along the northern shore of 
Ontario, they reached Fort Niagara on the ist of October. Carrying 
their frail barks over the portage, they launched them once more on Lake 
Erie, and proceeded to the post at Presqu' Isle, (now Erie, Pa.,) and 
thence along its southern shore. Arriving at the mouth of the Chogage, 
the farthest point west that any body of troops under the British flag had 
ever penetrated, Rogers encamped in the neighboring forest. They 
had scarce landed before a number of chiefs appeared before their 
startled eyes, who stated they were an embassy from Pontiac, the great 
Lord of all that region, who would soon pay them a visit, and that the 
" pale-faces " must proceed no further. 

Shortly after, Pontiac himself, majestic in appearance and attended 
by a number of his chiefs, made his appearance, and haughtily de- 
manded of Rogers what his warriors were doing in that country, and 
how he dared enter it without his permission. The Major was too 
prudent to take offence at this arrogant style of address, but 
quietly answered that the French were defeated : that all Canada had 
surrendered, and that he had been ordered to take possession of Fort 
Detroit, and was now on his way thither. The proud chief only 
deigned to reply, "I shall stand in the path you are walking until 
morning," as much as to say, Proceed no farther without permission. 

The next morning Pontiac reappeared, offered the pipe of peace, 
and said he was willing to live at peace with the English so long as they 
treated him with deference — not only this, but he dispatched messen- 
gers to the various Indian towns in front of Rogers, informing them 
that the Englishman had his authority to march through the country, 
and he employed a hundred of his warriors to drive the cattle which 
had been sent from Fort Pitt for the use of the troops. He kept near 
Rogers until his arrival at Detroit, and was the means of preventing a 
hostile Indian attack at the mouth of Detroit river. Hitherto Pontiac 
had been in word and deed the firm ally of the French, but he was 
shrewd, subtle and ambitious, and was too wise and crafty to press a 
failing cause. By making friends with the English, he hoped to ad- 
vance his own ambitious projects and increase his influence over the 
north-western tribes. He confidently expected, likewise, that the new- 
comers would treat him and his authority with the same studied respect 
that the French had done. In all this he was doomed to a speedy and 
a mortifying disappointment. His tolerance, therefore, was soon suc- 
ceeded by jealousy, which was easily, on opportunity, converted into 
rage and then revenge. 
8 



114 Our Western Border. 

Pontiac at this time was principal Chief of the Ottawas, and was 
about fifty years of age. His powerful tribe had for some time been 
united with the Ojibwas and Pottawattamies, and he was their common 
head, exercising over them almost despotic authority and his power 
extending among all the surrounding nations. He was brave, shrewd, 
subtle and eloquent, and was a perfect master of all those arts by which 
the American savage is not only won, but retained. He had led his 
tribe, a few years before, at the bloody battle of Braddocks Fields. A 
short time previous he had saved the Detroit garrison from an attack 
from surrounding tribes. During the French war he had fought on the 
side of France, and had received especial marks of esteem from the 
Marquis de Montcalm. 

When Rogers appeared with his whale-boats before Detroit, inform- 
ing its French commandant that Canada had surrendered, and that he 
bore an order from Vaudreuil for the quiet evacuation of Detroit, he 
could not and would not believe it. The rangers landed on the opposite 
bank and pitched their tents upon a meadow. Two officers went across 
the stream to take possession. The authority from Vaudreuil was 
shown, and could not be disputed. In obedience thereto, the French 
garrison defiled upon the plain and grounded their arms. The fleur de 
Lis was lowered on the flag-staff, and the Cross of St. George took its 
place, while several hundred Indian warriors, late the active allies of 
France, looked on with wonder at the scene. They could not under- 
stand why so many men should humble themselves without a blow be- 
fore those few impudent strangers. When it was all explained they 
were equally amazed at the forbearance of the conquerors in not kill- 
ing their vanquished enemies on the spot. The forts of Miami, Ona- 
tanon and Machillimackinac soon after followed suit — still later the 
three remoter posts of St. Marie, Green Bay and St. Joseph. 

First Mutterings of the Awful Storm — Pontiac's Suetlety. 

Speedily, however, were heard the sullen mutterings of an awful 
storm. A deep-rooted hatred against the English soon grew up. They 
knew not like the French how to conciliate the Indians. They were 
stingy and niggardly with their gifts ; they treated the Indian visitors at 
the forts with disdain and contempt, sometimes with personal rudeness 
and indignities ; the French used to humor their ways and conform to 
their customs, marrying with them, dressing and living like them, and 
contributing liberally to all their amusements and native tastes. From 
the English they got little but harsh words or contemptuous blows. This 
hated nation, too, were steadily advancing, occupying all their best 



Pontiac's Subtlety. 115 

lands and the British fur- traders were cheating, rum-selling ruffians of 
the most degraded stamp, who debauched their women, encroached on 
their best trapping grounds and swindled them out of their furs with 
systematic villainy. Add to all this the fact that the French Cana- 
dians, who hoped that the hated British rule would be temporary, did 
all they possibly could to foment bad blood and to spread all manner 
of wicked reports and deceptions, and it is no marvel that the whole red 
race was ripe for revolt and conspiracy. In the language of a great 
Chippewa orator, the French had lived in the same lodge with them ; 
they had sent them missionaries ; had invited them to grand councils ; 
had overwhelmed them with frequent and valuable presents, and had 
treated them as brothers. The English, however, had neglected all 
those acts of kindness and arts of courtesy and policy which had made 
the French so agreeable. The conduct of the French had never given 
rise to suspicion. That of the English had never given rest to it. 

And now, too, a prophet — answering to Tecumseh's brother many 
years afterwards — arose conveniently among the Delawares to give as it 
were the sanction of the Great Spirit to all this discontent. He fairly 
hated the English and by all the arts known to the native dreamer 
and soothsayer, he went to and fro stirring up suspicion and discord. 
He dreamed dreams and saw visions, and all to the same purpose. The 
English had come to take away the beautiful country given them by 
the Great Spirit and they must be cut off or driven off. 

Pontiac, actuated by revenge, ambition and patriotism, was really at 
the bottom of all this trouble. His sagacious, far-seeing mind, fore- 
cast the future and saw plainly that now, if ever, was the time to check 
the British advance. He sent out his ambassadors far and near. Bear- 
ing with them the war belt of wampum and the tomahawk stained in 
token of war, they roamed over all the country and called secret coun- 
cils of all the tribes, advancing as far east as the Delaware and Shaw- 
nees of the Allegheny ; the Cherokees and Catawbas of the south, and 
the Illinois and Muscatines of the west ; and, first, a grand council of 
all the neighboring tribes, of which Pontiac was the supreme head and 
inspiration, was convened at the river Aux Ecorces. Here Pontiac 
exerted all those subtle arts for which he was so distinguished. 

With a profound knowledge of the savage character, and especially 
aware of the great power of superstition on their minds, he related, 
among other things, a dream in which the Great Spirit had secretly dis- 
closed to the Delaware prophet aforesaid, exactly what his red children 
must do. They were to abstain from the pale-faces' "fire-water;" to 
abandon all their manufactures ; resume their bows and arrows, fire-arms 
and the skins of animals for clothing, "and why," the orator conclu- 



116 Our Western Border. 

ded, "Why, said the Great Spirit to the Delaware prophet, do you 
suffer these vile dogs in red clothing to enter your country and take the 
land I have given to you alone ? Arise ! Drive them from it ! Drive 
them! When you are in distress /will help you ! " 

This speech was received with cries of vengeance. The scheme was 
fully debated and concluded. It was resolved that the work of extir- 
pation should be commenced on the same day east and west ; north and 
south. That all should be kept secret as the grave and that in all cases, 
according to the universal Indian rule, resort should first be had to 
craft and artifice. Should they fail, then, open war. 

With the subtle dissimulation of their race, the design was caretully 
concealed until all the tribes far and near should be ready to act in con- 
cert. Until that day arrived, the warriors still lounged about the forts, 
with calm, stony, imperturbable faces, begging as usual for tobacco and 
whiskey. Now and then some trader, coming in from Indian villages, 
would bring strange reports of mischief being on foot, or some swag- 
gering half-breed would be heard boasting in his cups that he would now 
have abundance of hair-fringe for his hunting frock, but still there was 
no general alarm. Early in March, indeed, the plot was nearly dis- 
covered. Ensign Holmes, commanding at Fort Miami, was told by a 
friendly Indian, that the warriors of a neighboring friendly village had 
received a war belt and a peremptory command to destroy him and his 
garrison, which they were preparing to do. On being charged with 
this design, the wily savages did as they had often done before, and did 
do afterwards — they confessed the fault with much apparent humility, 
and blamed a far-distant tribe. Holmes wrote to Major Gladwyn, who 
was then the British commander of Detroit, who, in turn, informed 
General Amherst — but, also, that he thought the affair would soon blow 
over, and that, in the neighborhood of his own fort, the savages were 
perfectly tranquil, and yet, within cannon shot of this brave but deluded 
officer, dwelt and plotted the great Pontiac himself. 

Well, the dread day agreed upon arrived at last, and the result was 
nine British forts captured, and in every case by artifice. Some of the 
garrisons were completely surprised and massacred on the spot ; a. few 
individuals in other cases escaped. Hundreds of Indian traders on 
their way to the different forts and tribes, were murdered and their 
goods and stores, either captured or destroyed. At the same time com- 
menced a fierce, horrible and desolating war against the New York, 
Pennsylvania and Virginia borders. For weeks together, nothing was 
heard but news of whole families butchered and communities abandoned. 
Houses, stock, barns, everything, fell a prey to these human locusts, and 
the roads to the east were blocked with throngs of the poor, smitten 



Machillimackinac Captured. 117 

and panic-stricken inhabitants. Other posts, too, would have fallen 
had not their commanders received timely intimations of the intended 
attack. The capture of so many by preconcerted strategy proves the 
scope and reach of the mind of Pontiac, the brains of the whole con- 
spiracy. Generally the commanders were secured in the first instance 
by parties admitted within the forts, under the pretence of business or 
friendship. At Maumee, the officer was betrayed by a squaw, who, by 
piteous entreaties persuaded him to go out with her a couple of hun- 
dred yards to the succor, as she said, of a wounded and dying man. 
The Indians ambushed and shot him. We will here refer to the inci- 
dents attending the attack on some of the forts. 

Machillimackinac Captured Through a Game of Ball. 

And first Machillimackinac, standing on the south side of the strait 
between Lakes Huron and Michigan, opposite to where Mackinaw now 
stands. It was a very important post — a place of deposit and a point 
of departure between the upper and lower countries. An extensive 
square area, surrounded by high palisades, numerous houses, barracks 
and other buildings, formed a smaller square within, and in the vacant 
space could at that day be seen the red uniforms of British soldiers, the 
gray coats of Canadians, and the gaudy Indian blankets, mingled in 
picturesque confusion, while a multitude of half-breeds and squaws, 
with children of every hue, strolled restlessly about the place at the 
time. All the British troops had not yet arrived and the garrison was 
supplemented by Canadians, the only ordnance on the bastions being 
two small brass pieces. 

The capture of this important post was given to the Sacs and Ojib- 
was, and the plan was thus : 

The King's birthday having arrived, a game of baggattaway was pro- 
posed by the savages. This game is played with a bat and ball, the 
former being about four feet long, curved and terminating in a sort of 
a racket. Two posts are placed in the ground at a distance of half a 
mile from each other ; each party has its post, and the game consists in 
throwing the ball, which is started at a point midway from the posts, 
and each party endeavoring to carry the ball to its own wicket. A well- 
contested game of this kind presents a scene of wonderful exertion and 
excitement. Hundreds of lithe and agile figures are leaping and bound- 
ing upon the plain. At times, the whole mass is crowded together, 
pushing, shoving, yelling and contending ; and then they scatter again 
and leap over the ground like hounds in full cry, rushing and striking 
and tripping their adversaries. 






118 Our Western Border. 

At the proper moment it was easy for a selected party to throw the 
ball over the pickets of the fort, to be at once followed by a mad, 
shouting, tumultuous throng. Nothing could be more natural, or less 
likely to excite suspicion. This was, in fact, the very thing that was 
done, and to be still more sure of success, the Indians had persuaded 
many of the garrison and settlers to come without the pickets and 
lay wagers upon the keenly-contested game. Not fewer than four 
hundred were engaged on each side, and if possession of the fort could 
thus be gained, the rest was an easy matter. 

There was there at this time an English trader, Alexander Henry by 
name. On his route thither he had been several times warned to turn 
back, and was at length compelled to assume the disguise of a Canadian 
voyageur. When his canoes reached the fort, he had been received 
coolly by the Indians. Soon after he heard that a large number of 
Ojibwas were about to call on him, which excited his suspicion and 
alarm. They came, about sixty in number, headed by Miniavavana — 
a chief of commanding stature, and a singularly fine face and manner. 
They walked in single file, each with a tomahawk in one hand and 
scalping knife in the other. Their bodies were naked from the waist 
up. They were decorated in true Indian fashion, their faces painted 
and their bodies worked up with white clay. The chief commenced 
the pow-wow by asking when he had left Montreal, and observed that 
the English must be brave men and not afraid of death, since they 
dared to come so fearlessly among their enemies. 

After the pipes were smoked and while Henry was enduring all the 
tortures of suspense, the big chief made a more formal speech, in 
which he stated that the French King was their father, whom the Eng- 
lish had made war on and were his enemies, and that his enemies were 
theirs, too ; that the King of France was old and infirm and that, tired 
of making war, he had now fallen asleep and allowed the English to 
take Canada, but that his nap was almost done, and when he waked he 
would destroy the English utterly. He thus continued : "Englishman, 
although, indeed, you have conquered the French, you have not yet 
conquered us. We are not your slaves. These lakes, woods and 
mountains were left to us by our ancestors. We will part with them to 
none. Our young men have made war on your nation and many have 
been killed ; it is our custom to retaliate until the spirits of the slain 
are satisfied, and this can be done only in two ways ; first, by the blood 
of those who killed them ; second, by covering the bodies of the dead 
by presents and thus allaying the resentment of the relatives. English- 
man, your King has never sent us any presents, nor made treaty with 
us; wherefore, he and we are still at war. We consider, however, that 



Machillimackinac Captured. 119 

you have ventured among us unarmed, to trade with us and shall regard 
you as a brother. You may sleep in quiet, and we present you this pipe." 

A general smoke then ensued, and Henry made a formal reply. To 
this succeeded a request for whiskey. The trader reluctantly complied, 
and after distributing a few presents saw, with profound pleasure, the 
departure of his unwelcome guests. Soon after two hundred Ottawas 
came to the fort in a body, and summoned Henry and some other trad- 
ers to their presence. Here they were told they must distribute their 
goods among the Indians, making a faithless promise to pay them in the 
Spring, and threatening death if they refused. Asking time to reflect 
on this gentle hint, the traders resolved to resist such a flagrant robbery, 
and accordingly, arming thirty of their men with muskets, they barri- 
caded themselves in Henry's house and kept watch all night. No at- 
tack, however, occurred and soon after the garrison was reinforced by 
the timely arrival of troops. 

Captain Etherington, the commandant of the fort, had received seve- 
ral warnings of the conspiracy among the Indians, but with that fatuity 
so common among British officers in America who despised their foes, 
not only disbelieved them, but threatened to send prisoner to Detroit 
the very next person who should keep the little settlement alarmed by 
such improbable and ridiculous tidings. 

Henry, too, had received warning and afterwards blamed himself 
much for his total disregard of it. An Ojibwa Chief, Wawatam by 
name, had taken a great fancy to him and hinted several times that 
something unusual was on foot. One evening Henry's door was pushed 
open without ceremony and the dark figure of Wawatam glided silently 
in. He sat down with a dejected air and expressed surprise at finding 
his brother still in the fort ; he was going next day to the Sault Ste 
Marie and begged Henry to go with him. He then asked if the Eng- 
lish had heard no bad news, and said his own ears were filled with the 
songs of evil birds. Seeing that the unsuspecting trader was totally 
unsuspicious, he went away with a sad and mournful face, but returned 
next morning with his squaw and again pressed Henry to go with him. 
When the trader demanded the reason for his urgency, he asked if he 
did not know that many bad, strange Indians were encamped about the 
fort. To-morrow, he said, they would demand whiskey and would all 
get drunk and it would be dangerous to stay. Wawatam let fall other 
plain hints, which, had Henry understood Ojibwa better, could not 
fail to have moved him from his apathy. As it was, the chief and 
squaw took a mournful departure, but not before both had shed tears. 
There came no later warning. 

The very next day happened the ball play alluded to. The incred- 



120 Our Western Border. 

ulous Captain Etherington lounged outside the gate, having laid heavy 
wagers on the Ojibwas as against the Sacs. Several Indian chiefs and 
leading warriors, with eyes more snaky and glittering than usual, but 
apparently only intent upon watching the game, were grouped closely 
around. When the game was at its very highest and the surging crowd 
was swaying hither and yon, suddenly the ball soared high in the air 
and descending in a wide curve fell near the pickets of the fort. As if 
in pursuit of the fugitive ball, the players came rushing, in a maddened 
tumultuous throng, towards the chief gate which now stood invitingly 
open. One instant more and they had reached it. The dazed and 
Btupefied English had no time to think or act. And now the shrill 
cries of the players all at once changed into the ferocious, blood-curd- 
ling war whoop. The warriors snatched from the outstretched hands 
of their squaws, their keen tomahawks which had been until now care- 
fully concealed. Some of the Indians rushed fiercely on those without, 
while others bounded into the fort, and all was soon a frightful carnage. 
At the very first moment the throats of Etherington and his lieutenant 
were clutched by sinewy hands, and they were led into the woods. 
Within the fort all were butchered without mercy. 

Henry was a witness to this horrid massacre, but not to the ball play, 
and has given a minute account of it and of his own subsequent ad- 
ventures and narrow escapes. A canoe had just arrived from Detroit, 
and he was moving to the beach to hear the news when the murderous 
war whoop reached his startled ears. Going to his window he saw the 
infuriated mob of savages hacking and scalping all inside the fort. 
Seizing his fowling-piece, he waited, but of course in vain, for the drum 
to beat to arms. In this dreadful interval he saw several of his ac- 
quaintances fall and then scalped alive, while struggling between the 
knees of the fiends who held them. He then thought of his own safety, 
but knew not what to do or where to turn. He saw many of the French 
Canadians looking calmly on and thence thought one of their houses 
would offer the best security. Only, a low fence separated his own 
house from M. Langlade — the noted partisan half-breed who led the 
Lake Indians at Braddock's defeat — over which he climbed and 
begged for concealment. Langlade turned again to the window, from 
which he and his family were gazing at the massacre, and with the ex- 
pressive French shrug intimated he could do nothing. Henry's heart 
sank within him, but happily a Pawnee woman — one of the Sac cap- 
tives and a slave of Langlade's — beckoned to him to follow her. She 
then showed him the door to the garret and bade him conceal himself. 
She then followed him to the garret, locked the door after him and took 
away the key. 



The Trader Henry's Narrow Escapes. 121 

Through an aperture, Henry's blood fairly curdled at witnessing 
the scalpings and mutilations of the dead and dying. From the hacked 
and slashed bodies of the slain, these insatiate demons were scooping 
up the blood in the hollow of their hands and quaffing it off amid 
shouts of rage and triumph. At last all being silent, there was a gen- 
eral cry of "all is finished." Just then were heard the footsteps of 
Indians entering Langlade's house and asking if any Englishmen were 
therein. Langlade said he could not say, but he thought not, but they 
might examine for themselves. The Pawnee woman had not only hid- 
den him, but kept the secret. 

The Trader Henry's Narrow Escapes from Death. 

Henry now heard the wretches trying the garret door. Some delay 
was caused by the absence of the key. His feelings may be faintly 
imagined — not described. He looked anxiously about for a hiding- 
place, finally creeping in among a lot of birch-bark sugar vessels. An 
instant after, four savages, snuffing about like blood-hounds, entered 
with tomahawk in hand and all besmeared with gore. The throbbings 
of the poor fugitive's heart were almost loud enough to betray him. 
The Indians walked about in every direction, and , one approached so 
closely that he almost touched the trembling, cowering white man, but 
the obscurity favored him, and they finally returned down stairs, loudly 
boasting to Langlade how many scalps they had taken. 

Exhausted as he was by all he had gone through, Henry threw him- 
self on a feather bed and went to sleep. At dusk, Madame Langlade 
entered and was surprised to see him, but told him she hoped he 
would escape. Next morning he was again on the rack. Indian 
voices were heard below, to the effect that Henry, the trader, had not 
yet been found, and that he must surely be somewhere concealed. He 
then had the unspeakable torture to hear the affrighted Madame Lan- 
glade argue in French with her husband — who must by this time have 
known of Henry's concealment — that he should be given up, as, should 
the savages discover that they had anything to do with it, they would 
avenge it on their children, and it was better he should die than they. 
The husband at first resisted, but finally suffered her to prevail, and told 
the savages that he had heard Henry was in the house, and that he 
would put him into their hands. 

Judge of the poor man's horror at this revelation ! Considering all 
further efforts at concealment vain, he rose from the bed and presented 
himself full in view to the savages now entering the garret, and who 
were all drunk and nearly naked. One huge chief named Wenniway, 



122 Our Western Border. 

whom Henry well knew, had his entire body smeared with charcoal 
mixed with grease, with the exception only of one white spot, two in- 
ches in diameter, which encircled either eye. This fellow seized Henry 
by the coat with one hand, while with the other he flourished a large 
carving knife, threatening to run it in his bosom, and all the time glaring 
steadfastly into his eyes. 

At length, after some seconds of dreadful suspense, he dropped his 
arm, saying, "I will not kill you !" adding that he had lost a brother 
by the English and that the trader should take his place. 

This was a joyful reprieve to poor Henry, who was ordered down 
stairs and taken to the warrior's cabin, where he was again threatened 
with death, since not only there but everywhere else, the savages were 
infuriated and maddened with liquor. Wenniway, however, consented 
that the prisoner should stay at Langlade's house, and for the present 
all was safe. 

Shortly after an Indian, who was largely in Henry's debt, called at 
the house and ordered him to follow him to the Ojibwa camp. Henry 
could do naught but obey, but seeing his dusky debter moving briskly 
off towards the bushes, he refused to go further, asserting that he be- 
lieved he meant to kill him. The savage said he was right, and seized 
the prisoner by the arm and raised his knife to strike. Henry flung the 
fellow from him, and ran for his life to the gate of the fort and called 
on Wenniway for protection. The chief ordered the savage to desist, 
but the latter, who was foaming at the mouth with rage, continued to 
strike furiously at him with his knife. Seeing Langlade's door open, 
the persecuted trader ran in and retreated to his snug garret, with the 
comfortable conviction, as he declares, that no Indian had power to 
harm him. 

His confidence was somewhat shaken when he was suddenly aroused 
from sleep by a light shining in his eyes, and heard voices summoning 
him to descend. What was his surprise and joy to find in the room be- 
low, Captain Etherington, Lieut. Leslie, Bostwick a trader, with Father 
Jonois, a Jesuit priest. The savages were about to enjoy another grand 
debauch, and their chiefs, knowing the extreme danger to which the 
captives would be exposed during these mad orgies, had conveyed them 
all to the fort and put them in charge of the Canadians. Including of- 
ficers, soldiers and traders, about twenty in all escaped the massacre. 

When Henry entered the room he found his three companions in ear- 
nest debate as to seizing the fort again, which the Indians, drunken and 
with their usual recklessness, had actually left occupied by twenty Eng- 
lishmen and about three hundred Canadians. They had even neglected 
to place a guard within the palisades. To close the gates and set the 



The Trader Henry's Narrow Escapes. 123 

Indians at defiance appeared to be no difficult matter. Through the 
dissuasions of the priest, who argued that the Canadians would probably 
prove treacherous, and that if a failure should result, every Englishman 
in the place would be butchered, the daring but feasible project was 
abandoned. 

Next day Henry had to embark, in company with two traders and a 
soldier and guarded by seven Indians, in a canoe for the Isles du Castor. 
The heavy mists and the tempestuous weather compelled them to hug 
the shore, close beneath the wet, dripping forests. They had proceeded 
thus about twenty miles, when an Ottawa hailed them from the beach, 
asking the news and who were their prisoners. Some remarks followed 
while the canoe was approaching the shore, being in very shallow water. 
All at once a shrill yell was heard, and a hundred Ottawas, rising from 
among the trees and bushes, rushed into the water and seized upon the 
canoe and prisoners. 

The astounded Ojibwas remonstrated in vain. The four whites were 
taken from them, and led to the shore. It turned out that the Ottawas 
were jealous and angry that the Ojibwas should have taken the fort and 
they have no share of the plunder. They professed much good will to 
the prisoners, assuring them that the Ojibwas were carrying them to the 
Isles du Castor merely to kill and eat them. The poor prisoners now 
found themselves on another canoe and going back to the fort so re- 
cently left. A flotilla of canoes, filled with Ottawas, accompanied 
them. They soon arrived, the Ojibwas looking on in silent amazement. 
The Ottawa warriors took no notice, but, all well armed, filed into the 
fort and took possession. 

The English looked upon the new-comers as protectors, but were 
somewhat disappointed, for the next day the Ojibwa Chiefs invited the 
Ottawa leaders to a council, placed before them presents, and their great 
war-chief, Miniavavana, who had conducted the fort attack, addressed 
them with much feeling, saying that their conduct had much surprised 
him ; that they had betrayed the common cause ; opposed the will of 
the Great Spirit, which had decreed that every Englishman must die. 
Pontiac had taken Detroit (which was false,) and every other fort had 
been destroyed. All Indians but this band of Ottawas had taken up the 
hatchet, and the French king had awakened from his sleep. He con- 
cluded by exhorting them to join the rest. 

The council now adjourned to the next day to give time to deliberate, 
when the rebuked Ottawas concurred with the Ojibwa views, and re- 
turned them some of the prisoners, retaining, however, the officers and 
a few of the soldiers. These they soon after carried to L'Arbre Croche 
and treated with kindness. The priest afterwards took a letter to De- 



124 Our Western Border. 

troit from Etherington, telling Gladwyn of the capture of the fort a><3 
asking immediate aid. This, of course, as we shall soon show, Gladwyn 
could not do, he himself being in the most desperate straits. 

The Ojibwas now carried the prisoners thus returned to them to one 
of their villages not far distant, and placed them in the council lodge as 
a prison, all who chose coming to jeer at and deride them. At the 
head sat the great war chief, Miniavavana, and, by his side, Henry's 
master, Wenniway. Shortly after, Henry observed an Indian stooping 
to enter at the low door, and to his great joy, recognized his friend and 
brother, Wawatam, who had, previous to the massacre, so earnestly 
begged him to go with him to the Sault. Wawatam said nothing, but 
as he passed the trader, pressed his hand, and then, proceeding to the 
head of the lodge, sat down with Wenniway and the war chief. After 
all had smoked awhile in silence, Wawatam went out, and soon returned 
with his squaw, bringing in her hand a valuable present, which she laid 
at the feet of the two chiefs. Wawatam then addressed them in an ear- 
nest and most feeling speech. Pointing to Henry, he expressed his sur- 
prise at seeing him a slave whom all knew was his brother, and if a re- 
lative to him, then also to them; and if so, then he could not, by their 
customs, be a slave. He then boldly charged Miniavavana with breach 
of faith, since, being fearful that Wawatam, on account of his love for 
Henry, would reveal the secret of the intended massacre, he had per- 
suaded him to cross the lake, which Wawatam had agreed to do on the 
express condition that Miniavavana would protect Henry, his friend and 
brother. He now claimed the performance of this promise, and brought 
valuable presents to buy off any claim which any one could have upon 
his brother as a prisoner. 

Wawatam had his will, and Henry soon found himself in the lodge 
of his rejoiced friend, where rich furs were spread for him to lie upon, 
food and drink brought for his refreshment, and everything done to 
promote his comfort that an ungrudging Indian hospitality could sug- 
gest. As he lay there in state in his lodge the next day, he heard a loud 
cry, and, looking through a crevice in the bark, saw the bodies of seven 
soldiers dragged out. He learned afterwards that a noted chief had 
just arrived from his wintering ground, and having come too late to take 
part in the fort massacre, he was anxious to manifest by .this slaughter 
of victims how much he approved the proceedings. He had, therefore, 
calmly dispatched seven of the prisoners with his own knife. 

After a great victory by the Indians, it often happens that bodies of 
their victims are consumed at a formal war feast, in order, as they super- 
stitiously think, that thus their courage and hardihood may be increased. 
Such a feast now took place, many of the chiefs, however, partaking 



Obstinate Defence of Presq' Isle Fort. 125 

with repugnance. Up to this point all had been triumph and exulta- 
tion, but now a revulsion of feeling began to set in. The bloody vic- 
tors grew fearful of the consequences. Absurd and indefinite rumors 
of an approaching revenge on the part of the English were afloat in the 
camp and they thought best to shift position to some more defensible 
locality. Three hundred and fifty warriors, with their families and 
household effects, embarked in canoes for the Island of Maehillimacki- 
nac, Wawatam and Henry being of the number. A storm arose and 
the flotilla was so much in imminent peril, that prayers to the Great 
Spirit went up and a dog was sacrificed to appease the angry Manitou 
of the waters. This island (now called Mackinaw), owing to its beauti- 
ful location, its natural bridges and caverns of rocks, its charming sur- 
roundings, and the excellent fish with which the waters teemed, had long 
been a favorite resort of the Indians, and the lodges were' set up with 
joy. But on the very next day messengers arrived from Pontiac to the 
effect that he was now besieging Detroit, and urged them to come to his 
aid. Their fierceness, however, had now all died out. A senseless 
alarm prevailed among them. A vigilant watch was kept day and night. 
The fish having mysteriously disappeared, famine, too, began to be felt. 
No complaints were heard, but with that stoical resignation which so 
distinguishes the red race, they patiently endured the inevitable. They 
gradually had to disperse to localities where food was more abundant. 
Henry, painted and attired like an Indian, remained with his friend 
Wawatam all Summer and Winter, fishing and hunting the bear and 
moose for a subsistence. 

Obstinate Defence of Presq' Isle Fort. 

Let us now turn to the capture of Presq' Isle Fort, which stood 
near the site of the present town of Erie, on the lake of the same 
name. At one of its angles stood a massive, two-storied block-house, 
located on a projecting spit of land between the lake and a small brook, 
the bank of which, unfortunately, rose in a high, steep ridge, affording an 
excellent cover for assailants, while the lake bank offered similar facili- 
ties on another side. 

At early dawn on the 15 th of June, the little garrison, commanded by 
Ensign Christie, saw themselves surrounded by two hundred Huron 
savages. At the first alarm they abandoned the main fort and took to 
the block-house. The savages, availing themselves of every command- 
ing position, crowded about the doomed fort and poured in a perfect 
hail of fire, searching out with their unerring missiles every vulnerable 
spot or crevice. They also shot fire arrows on the dry shingle roof, 
repeatedly setting it on fire, and hurled balls of burning pitch against 



126 Our Western Border. 

the walls. Then they rolled logs to the top of the ridges and from be- 
hind these secure breastworks, they fired with still greater effect. Some 
even had the temerity to dart across the interval and attempt to shelter 
themselves in the ditch, but all of these were killed or wounded. 

And now the tired defenders could see their implacable foes throwing 
up earth and stone behind their breastworks, a sure evidence of under- 
mining. A still more imminent peril threatened in the total failure of 
water, which had been exhausted in putting out the frequent fires. To 
approach the well on the parade ground would be instant death, and so 
a new well was dug in the block-house itself. Before it was completed, 
She roof was again on fire and all the water that remained was poured 
out. Again the flames burst forth, when a soldier averted the total 
destruction, of the place by leaping upon the roof amid a hail of hurt- 
ling bullets and tearing off the blazing shingles. 

Evening had now arrived. From earliest dawn, without one mo- 
ment's intermission, the heroic little garrison had fought or toiled. All 
night long was seen the constant flashing of guns from the Indian 
entrenchments. Morning brought fresh perils. Fortunate was it that 
now the well was complete, for the indefatigable foe had pushed their 
subterranean approaches as far as the commandant's house, which was 
set on fire, stifling the defenders with the intense heat and smoke. The 
outer wall of the block-house itself scorched, blackened and at length 
burst into flame. Still this Spartan band refused to yield, but passing 
up water from the new well, they finally subdued the fierce flames. 

The men were now utterly exhausted, yet still they toiled on within 
the wooden walls of their prison house, where the close air was sulphur- 
ous with the smoke of gunpowder. The fire continued until midnight 
of the second day, at which dread hour a bugle voice was heard crying 
out in French from the enemy's hold, that further resistance would be 
useless since all was now prepared for setting the block-house on fire 
from above and beneath at once. Christie asked if there were any 
among them who spoke English ; upon which a soldier Briton who had 
been long prisoner with the savages, came out, in his Indian dress, from 
behind the breastwork. He promised, if they yielded now, their lives 
should be spared ; if they longer fought, they must all be burned alive. 

Christie, resolving to hold out as long as possible, asked them to wait 
till morning. Agreed to, and while some of the garrison watched, the 
rest sank down in their tracks and snatched a hasty sleep. Next morn- 
ing Christie sent out two soldiers, as if to treat with the enemy, but, in 
reality, to learn truly whether they were able to set fire to the block- 
house. A preconcerted signal made by the two men, soon after reach- 
ing the breastwork, warned him that the insidious foe had made no idle 



Pontiac's Siege of Detroit. 127 

boast. Two chiefs now met Christie between the breastwork and block- 
house, and to them this lake fort, defended with such intrepidity, 
was finally surrendered, on the express condition that the lives of the 
whole garrison should be spared, and they be allowed to retire to the 
nearest post. 

The poor soldiers, pale, wild and haggard, like men who had passed 
through the fire and smoke of dreadful battle, now issued from the 
block-house, and were immediately seized and afterwards sent to De- 
troit, whence Christie soon after made a successful escape. The neigh- 
boring posts of Venango and Le Boeuf — the very ones which Washing- 
ton visited while they belonged to France, several years before — fell an 
easy prey at the same time. 

Pontiac's Siege of Detroit — An Ojibwa Maid Reveals the Plot. 

And now what about Detroit, the most important and formidable 
post of all, and hence entrusted to the wily and powerful Pontiac him- 
self ! The British garrison, at this time consisting of a hundred and 
twenty soldiers, partly regulars and partly American rangers, with 
about forty fur-traders, was quartered in a well-built range of barracks 
within the fort, which contained within its enclosure about a hundred 
houses. Its fonn was nearly square, a wooden bastion at each corner, a 
block-house over each gateway, and the palisades surrounding and con- 
necting all, about twenty-five feet high. Besides the barracks, the only 
public buildings were a council house and a rude little church. 

The fur-traders, voyageurs and other Canadian occupants, could not 
be trusted in case of an Indian outbreak. The banks of the Detroit 
river, connecting Lakes Erie and St. Clair and running before the fort's 
gates, were sparsely settled for many miles, chiefly by Indian fishermen 
and Canadians engaged in the Indian trade. Two small armed 
schooners, the Beaver and Gladwyn, lay anchored in the stream, and 
several light pieces of artillery were mounted on the bastions. Within 
the limits of the settlement were three large Indian villages. A little 
below the fort were the Pottawattamies : directly across the river was a 
Wyandot village, and on the same side, five miles further up towards 
Lake St. Clair, Pontiac's band of Ottawas had an encampment. The 
fort was fortunate in having as commandant, Major Gladwyn, a British 
officer of pluck, merit and resolution, who had been one of Braddock's 
most trustworthy officers, and wounded at his memorable defeat. 

On the afternoon of May 5 th, a Canadian woman was on a visit to 
Pontiac's village to buy venison and maple sugar. She was startled at 
finding some of the warriors filing off the barrels of their guns, so as 
to reduce the length, stock and barrel, to about a yard. On her return 



12S Our Western Border. 

she told what she had seen to some neighbors, when a blacksmith re- 
marked that many of the savages had lately visited his shop and de- 
sired to borrow saws and files for a purpose which they would not dis- 
close. The Canadians were suspicious. M. Gouin, an old and wealthy 
settler, went to Gladwyn and conjured him to be watchful. But little 
heed was given to the friendly advice. 

In the Pottawattamie village lived a pretty Ojibwa girl who was on 
most intimate terms with Gladwyn. The very next day Catharine, as 
she was called, repaired to Gladwyn's quarters with a pair of elk-skin 
moccasins, wrought with porcupine quills in divers figures, which he 
had requested her to make. There was something unusual in her man- 
ner ; her face was sad and downcast ; she said' little and soon left the 
room, but continued loitering around as if her errand were yet unac- 
complished. At length Gladwyn's notice was attracted, and calling her 
in he pressed to know what was on her mind. She gave various ex- 
cuses, but finally, on Gladwyn's urging her, she was induced to re- 
luctantly reveal her dread secret. 

To-morrow, she said, Pontiac, with a large crowd of chiefs, will come 
to the fort, each armed with a shortened gun hidden under his blanket. 
Pontiac would demand to hold a friendly council, and after his speech 
would be over he would offer a wampum belt, which would be the sig- 
nal for an~attack by the chiefs on the officers. These dispatched, they 
would then join their warriors in the streets, who, with curtailed rifles, 
likewise concealed, would push into the town under the pretence of 
trading. Every Englishman was to be butchered, but not the scalp of 
a Canadian would be touched. 

Gladwyn, it may well be supposed, was astounded at this intelligence. 
He gathered all the information he could from the girl, and called his 
officers together. The garrison was weak, and the defences flimsy and 
in bad order. Every preparation was made to meet the possible if not 
probable emergency. Half the garrison were ordered under arms, and 
Gladwyn himself was so uneasy that he walked the ramparts that night 
and saw personally to every man's being at his post. As he thus 
anxiously paced the ramparts, he heard, at intervals, sounds of fearful por- 
tent — the dull, monotonous beat of the Indian drum and the wild chorus 
of quavering yells, as the warriors, around their distant camp fires, were 
celebrating in advance the triumphs of the dread to-morrow. 

At early sun, a cloud of bark canoes could be seen sweeping swiftly 
down the Detroit river. The plains about the fort began to be dotted 
over with groups of squaws and warriors, some naked and others fan- 
tastically arrayed in barbarous finery. Grim warriors, closely wrapped 
in their gaudy blankets, could be seen stalking with erect forms, with 



An Ojibwa Maid Reveals the Plot. 129 

springy steps and restless, gleaming eyes towards the fort. Then with 
an air of assumed indifference they would lounge about or edge over to- 
wards the gate. 

All this stirring panorama of savage life boded no good. It seemed 
to confirm the Indian girl's tale. None but Gladwyn and his officers 
knew the secret, and they were prepared. The chiefs, headed by the 
majestic figure of Pontiac, had now made a landing, and strode, with 
furtive looks and measured steps towards the great gate. All were at 
once admitted, Gladwyn choosing to convince his crafty foes that 
though their treachery was detected, it was also despised. The whole 
garrison had been early ordered under arms, and commands had been 
issued to the traders that, as a large concourse of savages was to be held 
in the town that morning, it would be well to close their stores and arm 
their men. A Canadian going to his home, had shortly before met 
Pontiac and his sixty chiefs, all marching in Indian file. As he stood 
aside to let them pass, he recognized among them an old and familiar 
acquaintance. The savage returned his salutation with a deep, sullen 
voice, opened for an instant the folds of his blanket, revealing the rifle 
beneath, and with a smile and gesture of a peculiar significance, strode 
on with his fellows. 

And now the file of stern, proud and plumed chiefs are fairly within 
the palisades. All were wrapped to the throats with blankets. Their 
eyes gleamed around with the venom of the rattlesnake. As 
Pontiac's restless, roving glance caught the guard of soldiers and the 
rows of glistening arms ranged on either . side of the gate, and as 
his quick ear caught the measured tap of the drum, he gave a sudden 
start, and a guttural exclamation of surprise and dismay came unbidden 
from his broad and swarthy breast. Even his vaunted stoicism was at 
fault as he beheld in these groups of soldierly and armed engages of 
the fur-traders, the probable ruin of his crafty plot. . Stifling all signs of 
alarm, however, he and his haughty followers swept on to the council 
house. Entering, they saw Gladwyn and his officers seated in readiness 
to receive them, nor did their wary eyes fail to note that each had both 
sword and pistols in belt. All this, added to the fact of a larger number 
of troops than usual being visible, caused the conspirators to exchange 
meaning and uneasy 'glances. 

"Why," coolly and calmly demanded Pontiac, "do I see so many of 
my father's young men standing with their guns in the street?" Glad- 
wyn answered simply that it was for drill and exercise, with which 
answer Pontiac was fain to be content and straightway began his speech. 
Holding in his hand the fatal wampum belt, he professed the strongest 
attachment to the English and declared, with Indian figurativeness, that 
9 



130 Our Western Border. 

he had come to brighten the chain of friendship and smoke the pipe of 
peace. The officers watched him keenly, and when he raised the belt 
as if to give the preconcerted signal, at a motion from Gladwyn the 
clash of arms and peal of drum was heard from without. 

Pontiac stood for a moment d&zed and confounded ! All his schem- 
ing^ dashed in an instant ! The color mounted to his swarthy visage, 
and instead of giving the belt in the mode proposed, he handed it in the 
usual way and soon sat down alarmed and perplexed. The general version 
of this scene is, that Gladwyn rising from his seat, drew the chief's blanket 
aside, exposed the hidden gun and sternly rebuked him for his perfidy, 
but his own official letters do not confirm this, but state that he and his 
officers remained seated as before. It was manifestly his policy to prevent 
the fulfillment of the plot without bringing matters to an open rupture. 

A silence which could be almost felt, ensued. At length Gladwyn 
arose, with calm eye and unruffled brow, and in a brief formal speech 
assured the assembled chiefs that he would extend friendship and pro- 
tection so long as it was deserved, but that the first act of aggression 
on their part would be followed by a signal vengeance. The council 
then broke up, Pontiac stating that they would return in a few days with 
their squaws and children that they might all shake hands with their 
fathers, the English. The baffled and discomfited savages soon after 
took their departure, their hearts, if possible, burning with a still more 
venomous rancor at the ignominious failure of their deep-laid plot. 
This account differs materially from those given in the popular border 
books, but besides comporting better with the probabilities of the case, 
it agrees with Gladwyn's official report to Amherst, which distinctly 
states : ' 'And Pontiac made a speech which I answered calmly, without 
intimating my suspicions of their intentions, and after receiving some 
trifling presents, they went away to their camp." 

The foiled and chagrined Pontiac, baffled in the crafty scheme which 
he himself had conceived, retired to his hut to brood over his revenge. 
The snake was only scotched, not killed. He resolved to visit Glad- 
wyn once more to convince him he had been deceived. The next day, 
bearing in his perfidious hand the sacred calumet of peace, he had the 
impudence to assert to the English that evil birds had sung lies in their 
ears; that they loved their English brothers, and to prove it, had come 
to smoke the pipe of peace. The same day he gathered the young men 
of all the tribes to a game of ball which took place with great noise and 
excitement. At nightfall the garrison was startled with loud discordant 
yells. The drums beat to arms and the troops were ordered to their 
posts. It proved, however, only the shouts of the victors, and all soon 
became silent as usual. 



Hostilities Commenced. 131 

The next day throngs of Indians commenced to gather about the fort 
and Pontiac, advancing singly from the multitude, approached the gate 
which he found barred against him. The baffled chief shouted to the 
sentinels and haughtily demanded why he was excluded. Gladwyn re- 
plied that he himself could enter if he wished, but his people must stay 
out. Thus openly rebuffed, the mask was now thrown off entirely. 
With a scowl of hate and an ejaculation of rage, Pontiac strode to- 
wards his followers who were lying in squads prone upon the ground, 
and at a signal all leaped up and ran like so many devils towards the 
house of an Englishwoman who was at once made the first bloody vic- 
tim. Another gang, with frightful yells, hurried to the river, leaped 
into their canoes, paddled swiftly to the Isle au Cochon and murdered 
an Englishman named Fisher, who lived there. 

Hostilities Commenced — Officers Captured — Anecdotes of 

Pontiac. 

Pontiac retired alone. He was terrible in his rage and none dare 
approach. Pushing a canoe from the shore, he drove it rapidly to the 
Ottawa town and imperiously ordered that it should be moved to the 
other shore. The enraged chief then, with tomahawk in hand, 
hideous in war paint and plumed for battle, leaped into the midst of his 
warriors, and brandishing his weapons, denounced vengeance on the 
cowardly English. The war dance over, a few Jiours found all the 
Ottawa community with huts pitched on the fort side of the river. A 
formidable band of ferocious Ojibwas from Saginaw river joined him. 
News came also to the fort of the murder of two English officers above 
Lake St. Clair. 

The war had now commenced. Every Englishman in the fort was 
ordered under arms, and Gladwyn walked the ramparts all night. At 
the earliest streak of dawn the horrid war whoop was heard from all 
parts. The combined tribes environed the fort on every side but that 
on the river and a storm of leaden hail beat all day against the feeble 
barrier. With characteristic caution the savages scarcely ever revealed 
their forms. Within gunshot of the palisades was a cluster of out- 
buildings, behind which a swarm of yelping red devils found shelter, 
but at last, teased by their impudence, a cannon loaded with red-hot 
spikes was turned in their direction and the houses were soon in flames, 
upon which the disconcerted savages broke away in a body, and this 
was the first of a beleaguerment which endured for eight months and 
which was conducted with a skill, a system and a persistency that has no 
parallel in all Indian history. To give details of this long siege would 



132 Our Western Border. 

fill a volume ; we have only room for a mere mention of the more 
salient and interesting incidents which marked its course. 

Gladwyn still believed that the whole outbreak was but a passing 
spasm of anger, and, being out of provisions, he concluded to open 
negotiations, under cover of which he could gather supplies. Accord- 
ingly La Butte, the interpreter, with two old Canadians, proceeded to 
the Indian camp and delivered their message. Pontiac was civil and 
courteous ; listened patiently, but his heart was unmoved. The Cana- 
dians were deceived and La Butte hurried back with the report that 
peace might readily be had by a few timely gifts. On hurrying back, 
however, he found little progress had been made, Pontiac, with char- 
acteristic dissimulation, evading every direct proposal, but pretending 
that he wished to hold council with his English fathers and was espe- 
cially desirous of seeing at his camp Major Campbell, the second in 
command, and a veteran officer who had gained their confidence by his 
justice and kindness. Gladwyn feared treachery, but the Major himself 
so pressed the mission that Campbell was at last permitted to depart to 
the Indian camp, accompanied by Lieutenant McDougal and several 
Canadians. 

Meanwhile M. Gouin, in moving from lodge to lodge, soon saw and 
heard enough to convince him that the two officers were advancing into 
the lions' very jaws. He hastened to warn the advancing embassy. 
Too late ! They would not be diverted but were soon approaching 
the little bridge that^led over Parent's Creek, just beyond which lay 
Pontiac's camp. No sooner were the red uniforms noted than the 
swarming multitude raised a horrible outcry. The women and children 
seized clubs and stones and rushed forward as if intent upon making a 
gauntlet for the twain to run. Pontiac's stern voice, however, allayed 
the tumult. He shook hands and made a way for them to the central 
lodge, and pointing to some skins on the ground, bade them be seated. 
The lodge was at once thronged with chiefs, while a fierce, eager, jostling 
crowd of commoners glared at them, with tigerish looks, from the out- 
side. Major Campbell answered Pontiac's curt speech, but was heard 
with an anxious silence. For a full hour the alarmed officers saw con- 
stantly before them the same dense throng of swarthy, inscrutable faces, 
bending on them a stony, unwavering glare. At length the anxious 
Major, desirous of testing his true position, arose to go to the fort. Pontiac 
made signs for him to resume his seat. " My father," he said in his deep, 
guttural tones, "will sleep to-night in the lodges of his red children." 

The gray-haired veteran was a prisoner ! Many were burning to 
sacrifice the two officers on the spot, but Pontiac was too politic for 
that extreme measure. They were conducted to the house of M. 



Officers Captured. 133 

Miloche and treated well. If two Indians had not happened at the time 
to be their prisoners at the fort, they would probably have had a short 
shrift. Next day Pontiac crossed to the Wyandot camp and succeeded 
in winning the whole tribe — which had hitherto been divided — to join 
in the war. They were the best fighters of all the tribes and soon after 
distinguished themselves. 

Hostilities were now resumed, but with more system than before. 
At a meeting of officers, Gladwyn alone, it is said, favored holding out. 
Their condition was desperate. Provisions were scarce. The houses 
were of wood, thatched with straw r , and could easily be inflamed, and a 
general onslaught — which could scarcely be resisted — was feared. This 
threat, however, was entirely contrary to Indian tactics. Their skill 
consists in winning without loss. A victory with them is considered 
dearly purchased by the death of a single warrior. Time passed on 
without any change or relief. For many weeks ail slept in their clothes. 
Volunteer parties sallied out and cut down trees, or destroyed buildings 
until the dusky foe had no shelter.- The two .vessels in the river, sweep- 
ing the northern and southern curtains of the work with their fire, were 
of great aid in keeping off the swarming savages. Still, however, these 
wormed their way through the grass, or taking advantage of every 
shelter, would manage to crawl unobserved close to the palisades and let 
fly their arrows, tipped with burning tow. Water, however, was ever 
ready, and all such attempts proved abortive. 

Pontiac neglected no art or wile that savage tactics could suggest. 
He even endeavored to draw from the French all they knew about the 
European methods of attacking a fortified place by regular approaches. 
He sent word, also, to Gladwyn, that if the place was given up, he 
might safely return with his whole force aboard his vessels, but that if 
he persisted, all would be burnt alive. Gladwyn answered, he cared 
nothing for empty threats ; yet still he was overwhelmed with anxiety, 
for he now learned that over a hundred fierce Ojibwas from Grand river 
had joined Pontiac, and all, English and Canadian, slept, with arms 
ready, upon the ramparts. Every effort was made to gather and hus- 
band every kind of provisions, but, notwithstanding all, the post must 
have been abandoned had not a few Canadians provided it, in the most 
secret method, with cattle, hogs and other supplies. For a long time 
the Indians were kept ignorant of what was going forward in this line, 
and they themselves commenced to suffer from hunger. 

Pontiac at first visited all the Canadian houses on both sides of the 
river and squeezed them bare of supplies. To deputations complaining 
of these proceedings, he made earnest and artful speeches, asserting that 
he and his men were fighting the British on French account ; that he 



134 Our Western Border. 

had not called on them for aid, but that his warriors must be fed. Pon- 
tiac then organized a regular commissariat and issued bills of credit 
drawn upon birch bark, signed with the figure of an otter, and, what 
is a greater marvel, they were punctually redeemed. Pontiac was the 
brains of all. He was ever on the alert, endeavoring to learn all he 
could, and exceedingly curious as to the best modes of making war and 
of manufacturing cloth, knives, guns, and other articles needed. Gen- 
eral Gage himself stated, as a testimony to his keen and subtle genius, 
that he kept two secretaries, one to write and one to read messages, and 
managed to fceep each of them ignorant of what was transacted by the 
other. Major Rogers, who was intimately acquainted with him, says : 
"He puts on an air of majesty and princely grandeur, and is greatly honored 
and reyered by all his subjects. Although undeniably artful, treach- 
erous and revengeful, yet, according to Indian ideas of honor and vir- 
tue, he was bold, fierce and ambitious." Two anecdotes will serve to 
show his character : 

Some time after Rogers came up with his troops, he sent Pontiac a 
bottle of brandy, as a present, by the hands of a friendly Indian. Those 
about the chief, always suspicious that the English wished to dispatch 
such a powerful enemy and get him out of the way, argued that the 
brandy was drugged, and that he should not touch it. Pontiac listened 
quietly, poured out a cup of the liquor, and immediately quaffed it off, 
saying that the man whose life he had once saved had no power to kill 
him. At another time, during the siege, he quietly entered the house 
of M. Baby, who was the Canadian known to be most friendly to the 
English, and the one who had secretly supplied them with provisions, 
&c. Seating himself by the fire he, for some time, looked steadily at 
the embers. At length he said that he had heard the English had offered 
Baby a bushel of silver for the scalp of his friend, Pontiac. Baby in- 
dignantly scouted the story. Pontiac keenly studied his face, and said, 
"My brother has spoken the truth, and I will show that I believe him." 
Pie then remained all evening, and composedly wrapping himself in his 
blanket, he slept in full confidence till morning. At another time Baby 
complained that some Wyandots came night after night and stole his 
hogs and cattle. Pontiac stealthily arrived at the house about midnight,' 
and pacing to and fro among his friend's barns, he at length discerned 
the dark forms of the plunderers stealing through the gloom. He ap- 
peared before them like an apparition. "Go back to your village, you 
Wyandot dogs! If you tread again on this man's lands, you die!" 
They slunk back abashed. Over the Wyandots Pontiac could claim 
no legitimate authority, yet his powerful spirit forced respect and obe- 
dience from all who approached him. 



A Large Convoy Captured. 135 

A Large Convoy Captured — A Thrilling Boat Scene. 

While all this was going on, the British commandant at New York 
was ignorant of Gladwyn's danger. With the opening of Spring, how- 
ever, a supply of provisions and ammunition had been sent up the lakes 
for the use of Detroit and other posts above. The boats of this con- 
voy were now approaching, and Gladwyn's garrison awaited their 
coming with increasing anxiety. Gladwyn ordered one of his vessels 
to Niagara to hasten forward the convoy. The schooner set sail, but 
the very next day, as she lay becalmed at the entrance of Lake Erie, 
she was surrounded by a cloud of canoes, in the foremost of which was 
placed, as a protection from hostile shot, the veteran Major Campbell ; 
but the brave old man at once called out never to mind him, but to fire 
away. Happily at that moment a fresh breeze sprang up, and the 
schooner escaped. On May 30th all Detroit was thrown into a won- 
derful stir by the announcement of a look-out that the long-expected 
convoy was in sight : at some distance below could be seen a line of 
boats, England's flag over them, and their oars flashing in the sun. 
With one accord the excited garrison and populace broke into three 
hearty cheers, while a cannon from one of the bastions sent out its roar 
of welcome. But suddenly every cheek was blanched with horror ! 
Dark, naked figures were seen rising, with wild gesture, in the boats, 
while in lieu of the expected responsive salute could be faintly heard in 
the distance the triumphant whoop of the savage. Horrible thought ! 
The convoy was in the hands of the enemy ! Officers and men stood 
gazing with mournful silence, when a thrilling incident just then oc- 
curred which caused their hearts for a time to stand still. 

In each of the approaching boats, of which there were eighteen, sev- 
eral of the capt«red soldiers were (guarded by many armed savages) 
compelled to act as rowers. In the first, as it happened somehow, were 
four soldiers but only three savages. As stated, one of the two vessels 
which lay along the water front of the fort had been sent to Niagara to 
hasten up this very convoy. The other lay anchored in the stream, 
and when the first of the advancing flotilla came opposite to it, the 
steersman conceived a daring plan of escape. He called to his com- 
rade to seize the Indian who sat in front and throw him overboard. 
The man answered that he was not strong enough, and so, as if fatigued 
with rowing, the two changed places. As the bold soldier stepped for- 
ward, he suddenly seized the powerful savage by his scalp lock and with 
the other hand gripping his girdle, he gave him a lift and tossed him 
into the river. The boat rocked till the water surged over the gunwale. 
The indomitable savage, thus so unceremoniously treated, would not 



136 Our Western Border. 

let go, but clinging fast to the soldier's clothes and drawing himself up- 
wards, he stabbed the soldier again and again, and then dragged him 
over. Both went down the swift current, engaged in a death-grapple, 
and finally sank from sight, a few ripples and gurgles only serving to 
show the place of disappearance. The other two Indians leaped from 
the boat, while the two remaining soldiers shouted for aid and pulled 
for the vessel. The savages on shore opened a heavy fire, while the 
other boats darted forward in close pursuit. The poor soldiers strained 
every nerve to escape. One of them was soon wounded, and the light 
canoes rapidly gained on their boat. Escape seemed hopeless, when all 
at once flash ! boom ! and a ball from the anchored vessel came dancing 
along the water, marking its way by a line of foam and narrowly miss- 
ing the foremost canoe. The pursuers paused in dismay ; a second 
shot scatters the Indians on shore, and the prisoners reach the vessel in 
safety, and are soon surrounded with an eager, questioning throng. 

The story they related was a sad one. Lieut. Cuyler had left Fort Ni- 
agara, May 13, with ninety-six men. They had made almost their 
whole journey without seeing a foe, when, on the 28th, the boats had 
landed not far from the mouth of Detroit river. A man and boy en- 
tered the woods to gather fire-wood, when a skulking savage leaped out 
and cleft his head with a single blow of his tomahawk. Cuyler imme- 
diately formed his band in a semicircle before the boats, when the en- 
emy opened fire from theif ambush, and after a hot blaze of musketry 
for a while, the whole painted, yelping body of them broke from the 
woods with horrible yells, and rushed with the greatest impetuosity upon 
the very centre of the line, which was at once broken and put to flight, 
the men becoming panic stricken, flinging down their guns and rushing 
to their boats. Five of these were gotten into the water and pushed off 
crowded with the terrified troops. Cuyler found himself utterly de- 
serted, and was compelled to wade up to his neck and scramble into 
one of the boats. The yelling savages, crowding two more of the boats 
that were abandoned, gave immediate pursuit, capturing three of the 
five boats, their hapless crews making little or no resistance. The other 
two, in which was Cuyler, made their escape. 

They rowed all night, landing in the morning on a small island. Be- 
tween thirty and forty men were crowded in these two ; the rest were 
all carried captive. Cuyler now turned back and made for Fort San- 
dusky, which finding destroyed, he rowed on to Presq' Isle, and thence 
back to Niagara. The victors in this well-planned stroke were the Wy- 
andots or Hurons, who, for some days, had lain in ambush at the mouth 
of the Detroit. Seeing the confusion of the soldiers, they had forgot- 
ten their usual caution, and secured success by a prompt and vigorous 



Frightful Massacre of Prisoners. 137 

rush. All the valuable stores fell prize to the savages, but the whiskey- 
was nearly undoing them. It was carried to the respective camps, and 
for days they presented scenes of riot and revelry. The hot and mad- 
dening liquor was poured into birchen vessels, and the savages would 
crowd about, scoop it up in double -handfuls and quaff it off like so 
much water. 

The effect may be imagined. While some sat apart totally overcome 
or wailing, whining and moaning in maudlin drunkenness, the major 
part were excited to beastly ferocity. Old quarrels were kindled afresh 
and jealousies among the different tribes awakened, and had not the 
poor squaws taken the precaution to hide all the weapons, there would 
have been a wholesale slaughter. As it was, some were killed, many 
were wounded, and others had their noses completely bitten off. The 
same evening two of the revelers came running directly towards the fort 
in all the vain-glory and pot-valor inspired by these deep potations, but 
being arrested by two leaden messengers, they leaped high into the air 
like a pair of wounded bucks and fell dead in their tracks. 

Frightful Massacre of Prisoners — Capture of More Forts 
Announced. 

Horrible, indeed, was the fate of all the poor prisoners ! At night 
some Canadians came into the fort bringing appalling and sickening re- 
ports of the dreadful scenes enacted at the Indian camps. The soldiers, 
beginning to fear a like miserable fate, gathered about them, and, fro- 
zen with horror, listened to the shocking and frightful narratives. A 
deep gloom settled down upon the devoted garrison. Ten days after, 
naked corpses, gashed with knives, scorched with fire and mutilated out 
of all semblance to humanity, came floating down the pure waters of 
the Detroit, where fish came up to nibble and gnaw at the clotted blood 
that clung to their ghastly faces. We naturally hesitate to detail the 
awful tortures inflicted upon these unhappy prisoners. Sixty-four of 
the sixty-six were compelled to run the gauntlet, and were then sub- 
jected to all the numerous tortures that Indian ingenuity could devise. 
All, all their hellish skill was utterly exhausted in devising new modes 
of inflicting agony. The remaining two, who were too much exhausted 
to run the gauntlet, were inhumanly clubbed to death. 

Not long after, the garrison saw issuing from the woods which ex- 
tended beyond the pastures in the rear of the fort, a line of savages 
painted entirely black, each bearing a scalp fluttering from the end of a 
pole. This was to announce the fate of Fort Sandusky, which had been 
attacked by a band of Hurons. Among the few survivors was the com- 
mandant, Ensign Paully, who had been brought to Pontiac's camp, 



138 Our Western Border. 

pelted by squaws and children with stones and sticks, and forced to sing 
and dance for the amusement of his tormentors. He was saved by a 
hideous old hag, who chose to adopt him in place of her deceased war- 
rior. Having no other alternative but the stake, poor Paully for a 
while did the honors of the Ottawa family. Gladwyn soon received a 
letter from this impromptu Indian husband, giving a full account of 
Fort Sandusky's capture. Paully had been informed that seven Indians 
whom he knew, were waiting at the gate to speak with him. He or- 
dered them to be admitted. Arrived at his quarters, two of the treach- 
erous scoundrels seated themselves on either side, the rest being scat- 
tered about the room. The pipes were lighted and pow-wowing began, 
when a reddy, who stood in the door-way, made the signal, and sud- 
denly the astounded Ensign was pounced upon and disarmed, while out- 
side could be heard the confused noise of yells and shrieks, the firing of 
guns and the hurried tramp of feet. Soon after, led forth by his cap- 
tors, Paully saw the parade ground strewn with the corpses of his butch- 
ered garrison. He was then put in a canoe, and as, amid thick dark- 
ness, the party pushed from the shore, their path was illumined by the 
sheets of flame bursting out on all sides from the doomed fort. On the 
heels of this news came the knowledge that two more strong bands of 
Ojibwas had joined Pontiac, swelling his force to near a thousand war- 
riors. 

The sleepless garrison, worn out by fatigue and privations, and har- 
assed by constant petty attacks and alarms, were yet farther saddened 
by thickening tidings of disaster. Of all the posts scattered through 
the vast wilderness west of Niagara, their own and Fort Pitt alone held 
out. On June 15th a number of Pottawattamies approached the gate 
with four prisoners. The Indians wished an exchange, which was 
effected. They proved to be Ensign Schlosser and three privates from 
the post of St. Joseph, which stood at the head of Lake Michigan 
among the swamps and solitudes, and at an unmeasured distance from 
the abodes of civilization. On May 25th an officer learned that the 
fort was surrounded with savages, and that the parade was also crowded 
with them — all very insolent and disorderly. 

While busying himself mustering together the Canadians, En- 
sign Schlosser heard a wild cry from the barracks. Hie sentinel at 
the gate was tomahawked and a free passage opened to the surging 
crowd without. In less than two minutes the fort was plundered, eleven 
men killed, and Schlosser with the only three survivors bound fast and 
carried to Detroit. Then came the awful news from Forts Machillim- 
ickinac and Miami and Presq' Isle — which we have already anticipa- 
ted. Had American rangers garrisoned all these posts, some of them, 



Capture of More Forts Announced. 139 

it is probable, might have been saved, but foreign troops were not well 
qualified, either by discipline or experience, for coping with the wily 
and snaky redmen of the west. It required a long and a peculiar kind 
of training. 

On June 19th a rumor reached Gladwyn from without that the vessel 
he had some time previously sent to Niagara had appeared off Turkey 
Island, and was awaiting a favorable breeze to work up the stream. 
She had gone to Niagara where she remained until Cuyler's return 
making known the miserable fate of his enterprise. Taking him and 
the survivors aboard, the vessel hastened back to Detroit, and was now 
almost within sight of the fort, but how to safely reach it — there was 
the problem remaining to be solved ! The river channel was in some 
places narrow, and nearly a thousand Indians, led on by such a plotter 
as Pontiac, were on the alert to obstruct a passage. Nothing was heard 
more of the vessel for several days, when a great commotion was visible 
among the redskins outside, large parties of whom could be seen 
passing down the river. In the evening came the news that the vessel 
was attempting to ascend the stream and that all the savages had gone 
down to prevent her, upon which two cannon were fired as an an- 
nouncement that the fort still stood. 

Let us see how it fared on board the little ship so anxiously expected. 
She had entered the channel between the main shore and Fighting 
Island, having on board about sixty men, but only a few visible on 
deck. The rest were carefully kept concealed in the hope that thus an 
Indian attack might be induced. Just before reaching the narrowest 
part of the channel, the wind died away and the anchor was dropped. 
Right above, the redskins had erected on Turkey Island and behind a 
" blind " of bushes, a log breastwork. Ignorant of this but still wary 
and cautious, the crew kept strict watch for hours. At last night came 
down. The current plashed with a monotonous sound about the bows 
of the schooner, while on either hand the densely-wooded shores lay 
shrouded in deepest obscurity. 

At length the keen-eyed sentinel in the shrouds thought he could dis- 
cern various moving objects. The men were quietly ordered upon 
deck and all made ready for resisting an attack. A hammer blow on 
the mast was to be the signal to fire. A flotilla of birch canoes, filled 
with dark, crouching forms, kept gliding stealthily down and about the 
ship, when suddenly the dark side of the slumbering vessel burst into a 
blaze of musketry. From the ponderous jaws of the cannon also was 
belched forth a hail of hurtling grape which flew tearing among the frail 
canoes, destroying several, putting the rest to flight, killing fourteen 
Indians and wounding many more. Recovering from their surprise, 



140 Our Western Border. 

the Indians commenced a fire from their concealed breastworks, upon 
which the schooner tripped her anchor and dropped down the river. 
Several days after she had better success, for although constantly fired 
on, she forced a channel and signalized her approach by sending a thick 
shower of grape among the huts of the Wyandot village, killing some 
and causing the rest to decamp yelpingly for the sheltering woods. 
Then furling her sails she lay peacefully at anchor beside her consort. 

The schooner brought the long-needed supplies, as also the import- 
ant news that the seven-year war was over and that peace had formally 
been declared between France and England. All Canada had been 
ceded to England, and the French about Detroit were subjects of King 
George. To many this news was exceedingly repugnant, and they went 
about the beleaguering hosts, asserting that the peace news was but a 
weak invention of Gladwyn ; that the French King would never aban- 
don his children, and that even then a great army was ascending the 
St. Lawrence, while another was coming over from the Illinois. Pon- 
tiac and his dusky bands clung tenaciously to this delusive hope, and 
he showed no let-up in his zeal and activity, but sent a message to Glad- 
wyn strongly urging his surrender, adding that eight hundred Ojibwas 
were daily expected, and that all his influence could not prevent them 
from taking the scalp of every resisting Briton. The friendly invitation 
was rejected with scorn. 

The Ottawa chief now made a determined effort to range the Cana- 
dians on his side and force them to take an active part. He called 
them to a grand council and harangued them with all the tact, fervor 
and eloquence of which he was the well-known master. He concluded 
thus : ' ' You must be either wholly % French or wholly English ! If you 
are French, take up that war belt and lift the hatchet with us ! but if 
English, then we declare war upon you. My brothers. I know this is 
a hard thing, but there is no choice. Look upon the belt and let us 
hear your answer?" 

One of the Canadians made an answering speech, in which he held 
up the French King's, proclamation, telling all his Canadian children to 
sit quiet and obey the English till he came, and pertinently asked Pon- 
tiac what he could reply to that. The Ottawa chief sat for a moment 
silent, mortified and perplexed, but made other speeches, the result of 
which was that he secured the enlistment of a lot of low, swaggering 
trappers, voyageurs, half-breeds and other nondescript vagabonds of the 
woods who were hanging about attired in Indian leggins and ornaments, 
The better class of Canadians, however, were shocked at this defection 
and protested against it. Pontiac, however, shook hands with the rene- 
gades, gave them a grand feast of dogs the next day, and the next night 



Old Major Campbell Butchered, 141 

a mixed party of these whites and Indians entrenched themselves near 
the fort. 

Old Major Campbell Butchered — Indians Send Down Fire Rafts. 

At daybreak they were detected ; the gate was thrown open and 
Lieutenant Hay, with a picked party, rushed forth and dislodged them. 
It happened that a soldier who had been several years a Delaware pris- 
oner, knelt down before one of the savages, who had been killed in the 
sortie, tore away the scalp and shook it exultingly towards the fugitives. 
This act excited wonderful rage among the Indians and proved the death 
warrant of poor Major Campbell. The same evening a white man was 
seen running briskly towards the fort, closely pursued by Indians. The 
panting fugitive was admitted by the wicket, and proved to be Paully, 
the commandant of Sandusky, who, as stated, had married an old 
squaw and was so profoundly disgusted with his bargain that he prefer- 
red to risk his death rather than longer endure her odious embraces. 

Through him the horrified garrison heard of Major Campbell's fate. 
The Indian who had been that morning killed and scalped proved to be 
a nephew to Wasson, a great Ojibwa chief. On hearing of the death, 
the infuriated uncle blackened his face in sign of revenge, assembled a 
party, and repairing to Meloche's house, where Campbell was confined, 
they seized, bound and shot him to death with arrows, and then muti- 
lated his body in a most barbarous manner. His heart was eaten to 
make them courageous, a practice not uncommon among Indians after 
killing a foe of acknowledged bravery, and of which we shall give 
hereafter a most notable instance in the case of the gallant Major Sam 
McColloch. of West Virginia. Pontiac, according to some, was privy 
to the act, but according to others, he was greatly incensed at it and 
Wasson was obliged to fly to Saginaw to escape his fury. Lieutenant 
McDougal had previously made good his escape. 

The two armed schooners now commenced to diversify the monotony 
of the long siege by tacking every now and then up and down the river 
and battering the Indian camps and villages. They soon became to 
the Indians objects of revengeful hate, and attention was turned to their 
destruction. One night in July a blazing raft, formed of two boats 
tied together by ropes and filled with pitch-pine and other combusti- 
bles, was sent down, but missed. Several nights after, the look-out 
saw a vivid, glowing spark on the water above, which grew brighter and 
brighter, and larger and larger, till it arose in a forked flame and then 
burst out into a conflagration. It was a fire raft and narrowly missed 
the vessels, passing down between them and the fort, brightly gilding 
their tracery of ropes and spars, lighting up the bastions and formal rows 



142 Our Western Border. 

of palisades, disclosing the white Canadian cottages on either shore and 
revealing the dusky margin of the gloomy forest, behind and in front 
of them lines of dusky savages, who expectantly stood opposite to 
watch the effect of their artifice. 

Lo and behold, now a flash is seen ! a loud thunder breaks the stillness 
and a shower of grape drives the disappointed spectators under cover. 
Undeterred by these failures, the savages commence a third raft, much 
larger and different and more formidable in construction than the others, 
but on hearing that Gladwyn had moored boats connected by chains 
far in advance of the ships, they found their four days' work would be 
in vain and desisted. 

It was now several months since the commencement of the siege. 
The Indians had displayed a higher degree of steadiness and per- 
sistence than had ever been displayed in their history, but some now 
commenced to flag in their zeal. A few Wyandots came to the fort 
and begged for peace, which was granted. Pottawattamies followed, 
who, upon delivering up the captives among them, were also allowed 
peace. The fort, however, was still closely besieged by the Ottawas 
and Ojibwas. 

In the meantime, without the knowledge of the weary garrison, a 
strong reinforcement was on its way. Captain Dalzell had left Niagara 
with twenty-two barges, bearing two hundred and eighty men, with 
cannon, ammunition, &c. Passing Presq' Isle, they viewed with sur- 
prise its scorched and blackened block-house and the mines and breast- 
works made by the Indians : thence they went to Fort Sandusky — or 
rather its site — and marching imvard, they burnt a Huron village, de- 
stroyed their crops, and successfully made their way up Detroit river, 
under cover of a heavy fog. As soon as the mists had rolled away, the 
garrison were summoned to behold the approaching convoy. A salute 
from the fort was at once answered from the boats, and all apprehen- 
sion of its having fallen into the enemy's hands, was removed. The 
savages opened a hot fire, and managed to kill and wound fifteen of the 
troops, who belonged to the fifty-fifth and eightieth regiments, together 

with last, but by no means least — twenty American rangers, headed 

by the gallant Major Rogers. 

The ardent Dalzell wished to lose no time, and strongly insisted with 
Gladwyn that the hour was at length come when an overwhelming blow 
should be delivered to Pontiac. He asked permission to march out the 
following night and attack Pontiac's camp. Gladwyn, better ac- 
quainted with the strength and character of the foe he had opposed to 
him, was decidedly averse to the movement, but finally yielded a re- 
luctant consent. Pontiac had lately moved his camp from the mouth 



A Fierce and Desperate Struggle. 143 

of Parent's Creek, and was now posted several miles above, behind a 
great marsh, where his camp could be secure against the ship's cannon. 
Preparations were now actively made for an attack, but, by an inex- 
cusable carelessness, the design was made known to a few Canadians. 

A Fierce and Desperate Struggle at Bloody Run. 

About two o'clock on the morning of July 31st, the devoted band, 
two hundred and fifty, all told, filed noiselessly out into the road and 
commenced their march, flanked on the water side by two large bat- 
teaux, each bearing a swivel on the bow. Lieutenant Brown had the 
advance, Captain Gray the centre, and Captain Grant the rear. The 
night was still, close and sultry,, and the men marched in a light un- 
dress. The watch dogs barked as they passed the row of Canadian cot- 
tages, and the aroused inmates heard the heavy, measured tramp, 
tramp, tramp, and looked on the spectral band with alarm. Little did 
they think — these regulars never do — that Indian scouts watched every 
step of their progress, and that Pontiac, duly apprised of the projected 
attack, had broken up his camp, and was in rapid march against them, 
backed by all his warriors. 

Scarce two miles from the fort, Parent's Creek — from that night 
called Blood}' Run — descended a wild and broken defile and entered 
the Detroit amid a rank growth of grass and sedge. A few rods from its 
mouth the road crossed it by a narrow wooden bridge. Just beyond the 
bridge, the land rose in abrupt ridges parallel to the little stream, their 
tops garnished with rude entrenchments formerly made by Pontiac to 
protect his camp. Here were, too, piles of fire-wood, besides strong 
picket fences. 

What choicer ground could be selected for a battlefield ! So thought 
the astute and crafty Pontiac, and behind all these obstructions and en- 
trenchments crouched his swarthy warriors, lying with gleaming eyes 
and panting bosoms but silent as snakes, as they heard the distant foot- 
fall of the foes they had so long waited for in vain. The fearless little 
command pushed rapidly through the dark towards the bridge, which 
was dimly visible in front, the ridges beyond seeming like a wall of 
blackness. 

The advance was half way across the bridge and the main body just 
entering upon it, when a horrible din of blood-curdling yells and 
shrieks burst all at once out of the surrounding blackness, accompanied 
by the blaze and rattle of musketry, Half the advance melted away ; 
the stunned and appalled survivors shrank back in affright, causing a 
sudden recoil of the whole body. Dalzell was the first to recover. 
Raising his bugle voice above the horrid clamor, he rallied his men, 



144 Our Western Border. 

hurried to the front,, and led them to the attack. Again the crouching 
redskins poured in a murderous, withering volley, and again the little 
command was checked : but their gallant leader shouted forward / and 
they dashed over the bridge and charged up the heights beyond. 

Charged what ! Not a redskin was there to oppose them ! None 
could be found anywhere ! Yet still their mysterious rifles flashed out 
constant destruction, and their screeching war whoops made the night 
hideous. The English forged forward amid the pitchy darkness, and 
soon became inextricably enmeshed amid a maze of outhouses and en- 
closures. The fire became hotter and hotter on the side of the Indians. 
To advance further would be a cruel and useless slaughter. There was 
nothing left but to retire and wait till daylight. Grant's company re- 
crossed the bridge and took station on the road. A small party was 
left in advance to hold the foe in check, while the rest followed, and 
until the dead and wounded could be placed on board the boats. Be- 
fore this difficult task was completed, heavy volleys were heard in the 
rear. It came from a large force of the savages stationed in Meloche's 
house and orchards. Grant pushed forward and drove them from the 
orchards and house at the point of the bayonet. From two Canadians 
found there, they learned that the savages had passed to the rear in 
great numbers, determined to occupy the houses and cut them off from 
the fort. 

Instant withdrawal became their only salvation, and the men slowly and 
in order commenced their painful retreat. They did not meet with 
severe opposition until they had reached a cluster of outhouses con- 
nected by strong fences. Behind these was concealed a strong force of 
Indians, who suffered the advance to pass without a shot, but when the 
centre and rear came directly abreast of their ambuscade, they raised a 
horrid yell, and poured forth a regular/^ d'enfer. The decimated sol- 
diers were hardly saved here from a most disastrous panic. The river 
was on one side, and no escape but by the road. They broke ranks 
and crowded down upon each other like a flock of sheep, and had it not 
been for the presence and coolness of Dalzell, the confused retreat would 
have degenerated into a disgraceful rout. Like Braddock a few years 
before, he stormed, rebuked and beat back his men into ranks, and a 
random fire was at length returned. 

It was still night, and nothing could be seen of the foe. The con- 
stant flashes of their guns only served to indicate their whereabouts ; 
while a demoniac medley of yells and whoops and savage clamor 
drowned all voices. Into one house from which issued a fatal fire, Ma- 
jor Rogers and his Rangers burst their way, rushed in and expelled 
them. Captain Gray, while charging a large gang of redskins behind 



A Bloody Repulse. 145 

some fences, fell mortally wounded. No sooner, however, did the men 
resume their retreat, before the savages were at them again, hanging on 
their rear, picking off stragglers, and scalping the dead and wounded. 
The eye of the brave Dalzell caught sight of a wounded sergeant rais- 
ing himself on his hands and gazing mutely after his retreating com- 
rades. He rushed back to the rescue, but was himself shot dead, and 
none to turn back for him. The loss of the harassed command would 
have been much greater had not Major Rogers occupied a strong house 
commanding the road, made a most obstinate defence, and thus covered 
the retreat. 

Meanwhile Captain Grant had made a stand in advance, and all as they 
came up, rallied around him, and made good the retreat with the 
exception of Rogers and his men, who, cooped up in the house spoken 
of, was besieged by full two hundred fierce and yelling savages. The 
batteaux which had gone down to the fort to discharge the wounded, at 
length returned to a point opposite this house and opened a fire from 
their swivels, thus enabling Rogers to reach the fort with no further 
loss. At about eight o'clock, after six hours of constant marching and 
fighting, the shattered detachment entered the fort once more, having 
lost full sixty of their number in killed and wounded. The loss to the 
enemy, led by Pontiac in person, was comparatively trifling. The ras- 
cals were greatly elated at their success, and sent runners far and near 
with the news, and fresh forces began to arrive daily. 

A Bloody Repulse — Siege Abandoned — Death of Pontiac. 

Well ! Time passed on, nothing of note happening in the conduct 
of the siege until the memorable night of September 4th. The 
schooner Gladwyn had been sent to Niagara with dispatches. She was 
now returning, having on board Horst, master, Jacobs, mate, a crew of 
ten Provincials and six Iroquois, supposed to be friendly. On entering 
the Detroit, the Indians asked to be put ashore, which request was 
foolishly granted, they no doubt revealing to Pontiac the weakness of 
the crew. At nightfall the wind fell and the ship was compelled to 
anchor about nine miles below the fort. It grew exceedingly dark and 
those aboard kept up an incessant watch. Meantime three hundred and 
fifty savages had stealthily glided down the current in their birch 
canoes and were close upon the vessel before seen. Only time to fire one 
cannon ere the hungry horde were beneath the bows and clambering 
up her sides with their knives clenched tight between their teeth. A 
dose fire of musketry seemed to have no effect, so, dropping their guns, 
the crew made at them with spears and hatchets and attacked the 
10 



146 Our Western Border. 

boarders with such tremendous energy that in a few minutes they had 
killed twice their own number. 

Only for a moment, however, was the swarm of assailants checked. 
Horst, the master, was killed ; several of the crew were disabled, when 
Jacobs, as he saw the assailants clambering over the 'bulwarks, called 
out lustily to blow up the ship. This desperate order saved the vessel. 
Some Wyandots heard the command and told the rest, when the panic- 
stricken crowd leaped overboard and were seen diving and swimming 
away in every direction to escape the expected explosion. The 
schooner reached harbor without further molestation with six of her 
crew unhurt. The enemy lost nearly thirty. 

By the end of September, three of the tribes retired from the contest; 
but the Ottawas, led and inspired by the indomitable Pontiac, still con- 
tinued petty hostilities. By November, however, a fatal blow was given 
to the hopes of the great chief in a letter sent by M. Neyon, command- 
ant of Fort Chartres, the principal French post in the Illinois country. 
It assured Pontiac that France and England were now at peace and that 
hostilities which could lead to no good result, had better be abandoned. 
This message had great influence with the fickle Indians, and in rage 
and mortification Pontiac, with a number of his chiefs, left for the 
Maumee country in the hope of exciting the Indians there and renew- 
ing hostilities in the Spring. Shortly after, two friendly Wyandots 
gained secret admission to the fort and one of them unstringing his 
powder horn and taking off its false bottom, revealed a letter to Glad- 
wyn from Major Wilkins- — who was then expected from Fort Niagara — 
conveying the unwelcome tidings that his command had been overtaken 
by a storm ; many of the boats had been wrecked ; seventy men had 
been lost and all the stores and ammunition had been destroyed and the 
expedition had returned to Niagara. 

Bad news enough ! rendering the prospect of the coming Winter still 
more dreary. The besiegers had now, however, almost all scattered to 
their wintering grounds. It was impossible for them to remain longer 
in a body without actual starvation. The confederated tribes had failed 
to "take Detroit, Fort Pitt and Niagara, the three most important 
fortresses in their country, and there was general disaffection among 
them. The siege proper may be said to terminate at this point, 
although for six months after, until relieved by General Bradstreet's 
army, the fort was environed by hostile bands and cut off from all pro- 
visions, communications, &c. 

We can only simply refer to the decadence of Pontiac's power, and 
need not follow him in his broken fortunes. With soul unsubdued ; 
with undying hatred to the English, and with one purpose so steadfast 



Death of Pontiac, 147 

and unfaltering as to almost reach the sublime, he continued to defy hi* 
foes and sought to confederate his friends. His exertions only grew the 
more daring as his fortunes became more desperate, but agencies were 
then at work all over the country, which at length convinced him that 
he had no longer a cause or a formidable following. He resolved, 
therefore, to accept the peace ; to nurse his vengeance and to bide his 
time. He went the next year to Oswego ; held a grand council with 
Sir William Johnson and the Iroquois sachems, and there made his last 
speech and sealed his submission to the English, renouncing forever the 
hopes which had so long nerved his ambitious soul. But the sacrifice 
almost, broke his heart, and for the next two years he lived in such 
obscurity that history has no trace of him. 

In 1769 he went with some attendant chiefs to visit his French friends 
at Fort St. Louis. The famous Pierre Chouteau of that post vividly 
remembered to the very last day of his life Pontiac' s appearance at that 
memorable visit. He was arrayed in the full uniform of a French 
officer — a special mark of favor from the Marquis de Montcalm— and 
moved about with great dignity. Hearing that a large number of 
Indians were assembled at Cahokia, nearly opposite, he, in spite of all 
dissuasion to the contrary, crossed the river to visit them. His fame at 
once surrounded him ' with attentions, and he was induced to drink 
deeply. When the council was over he strode to the adjacent woods, 
where he was heard to sing his medicine songs. An English trader 
named Williamson was then in the village, and it is said bribed a 
Kaskaskia Indian to kill the great chief — the implacable foe to all 
Britons. As Pontiac entered the forest this assassin stole upon his 
track, and, watching his opportunity, buried a tomahawk in his brain. 

This base and ignoble death caused great excitement among the 
western tribes, and most signally was it afterwards avenged, the Illi- 
nois tribes having been completely exterminated by the nations who 
almost worshipped Pontiac. The murdered chief lay where he fell un- 
til his old friend St. Ange sent to claim the body and buried it with 
warlike honors near his fort of St. Louis. In our account of Pontiac 
and the siege of Detroit, we have followed Parkman, whose monograph 
on Pontiac's Conspiracy is exceedingly full, exhaustive and reliable. 
He thus appropriately closes his notice of the great and imperial Ot- 
tawa chief: " Neither mound nor tablet mark the burial place of Pon- 
tiac. For a mausoleum, a city has risen above the great forest hero, 
and the race whom he hated with such burning rancor, trample with un- 
ceasing footsteps over his forgotten grave." 



148 Our Western Border. 

Guyasutha's Attack on Fort Pitt and Repulse. 

Let us now go back and briefly narrate what occurred at Fort Pitt, 
one of the three frontier posts which escaped capture during Pontiac's 
war. It stood at the junction of the Allegheny and "Monongahela, a 
little to one side of the ruins of the French Fort Duquesne, abandoned in 
1 758, and was a strong and formidable fortification, having five sides, the 
two towards the land of brick and the other three stockades. A broad 
moat, dry when the river was low, surrounded the fort. 

Nothing occurred to alarm until May 27th, when prowling bands of 
Indians scoured the country around, scalping stragglers, shooting or 
driving off stock, and murdering Indian traders. Then came news of 
the wholesale butchery of traders in the Ohio country. Among the 
Hurons the traders were so numerous and formidable that the Indians 
gained possession of them by stratagem, telling them that the surrounding 
tribes had risen in arms and were killing all the whites they met, and 
that it would be impossible for them (the Hurons) to protect their 
friends, the traders, unless the traders would consent, for appearance 
sake, to be made prisoners. In that case they should be set at liberty 
soon as the danger was over. The deluded traders gave up their arms, 
submitted to be bound, and were inhumanly slaughtered to a man. At 
Fort Pitt every preparation was made for a vigorous defence. The 
garrison consisted of three hundred and thirty soldiers, traders and 
hunters, commanded by the gallant Captain Ecuyer, and for many 
days were kept in constant alarm. The surrounding woods were full 
of prowling savages, though as yet no general assault was attempted. 

At length on June 2 2d a general fire was opened, which was replied 
to by a discharge of howitzers, the bursting shells appearing greatly to 
disconcert the assailants. Next morning a Delaware chief, Turtle's 
Heart by name, surrounded by other chiefs, boldly appeared before the 
fort and demanded its surrender, stating that six great nations had 
taken up the hatchet and had cut off all the frontier posts but that one. 
They must go back to the settlements or they would all be killed. 
Ecuyer replied, with a grim humor, which showed his confidence, that 
he could hold the fort against all the savages who should choose to 
combine against it ; that they were very well off there and meant to 
stay; that he would tell them in confidence, but hoped they would not 
mention to other Indians, that a great army of six thousand was coming 
to Fort Pitt ; another of three thousand had gone up the lakes, and a third 
had gone to the Virginia frontier, where, being joined by the Cherokees 
and Catawbas, (who were the most dreaded foes of the Ohio Indians,) 
they would come and destroy them. Therefore, they had better hide 



Ruse with a Stuffed Paddy. 149 

s or they would get hurt. The chiefs were thus beaten at their own 
game, and taking fright at the three imaginary armies, disappeared and 
dispersed to attack weaker posts like Ligonier and Bedford. A few days 
later came in Ensign Price, followed by seven haggard, half-famished 
soldiers. They were the garrison of Le Bceuf on French Creek, 
attacked about same time as Presq' Isle and Venango. Price stated that 
the Indians had suddenly surrounded his block-house, shewering bullets 
and fire-arrows against it, and had soon set it on fire. The yelling 
crowd then gathered in a half-circle about the gate, awaiting the 
moment when the inmates, stifled with flame and smoke, should rush 
out to their fate. But Price and his followers had hewn out a passage 
through the massive back wall of the block-house, and made good their 
escape to the surrounding woods, and thence to Fort Pitt. No man 
remained alive to tell how Fort Venango was taken, and it was not until 
long after that Sir William Johnson learned from a savage, who was 
present, that a large body of Senecas had gained entrance by a ruse, 
then closed the gates, fell upon the garrison, and butchered all but the 
commander, Lieutenant Gordon, whom they tortured to death over a 
slow fire for several successive nights. 

Meanwhile every possible effort was made at Fort Pitt for the re- 
newed attack which was daily expected. The rampart was repaired, a 
line of palisades was erected, the barracks were made bullet-proof to 
protect the women and children, of whom there were sheltered there 
more than a hundred. It was not, however, till the 26th of July, that 
there appeared a delegation, headed by Shingiss and Turtle's Heart, bear- 
ing a message from Pontiac to the effect that he was coming against the 
English at the forks of the Ohio with a great army, and that being a 
hungry and a headstrong people, they would eat up everything that 
came in their way. To this gentle hint, Ecuyer promptly replied that 
he despised the Ottawas ; could and would hold his fort against all the 
Indians in the woods, and that if they came again about the fort, he 
weuld blow them to atoms with bombshells, and would fire bagfuls of 
bullets at them. 

Ruse with a Stuffed Paddy — Bouquet Comes to the Rescue. 

The savages at this retired in great disgust, and then organized a more 
serious attack. Crawling along and behind the steep banks of the riv- 
ers, they dug holes in them to conceal themselves and afford shelter 
from the garrison's fire. Snugly ensconced in these caverns, they kept 
up a severe and incessant hail on the fort, and often set it on fire with 
their arrows. It was dangerous to expose a head or any part of the 
body. They thus killed and wounded seven, including the brave and 



150 Our Western Border. 

plucky Ecuyer himself. A soldier's letter from the fort, written at 
this time, and describing the above facts, says: " Some of our fellows, 
however, were more than a match for them. One day ' Brown Bill ' 
procured some old clothes and straw, and stuffing a paddy he told us 
that night to lift it slowly above the stockade, and then let it fall quickly 
whenever it was fired at from the caves. He then took his station a 
few feet from it, and soon as his eye became accustomed to the dark- 
ness, bade us raise it up. We hoisted slowly, and a bullet at once passed 
through it, but instantly Bill, who could fire at a flash, put a ball through 
the Indian's head. We all laughed at the result, which made Bill tre- 
mendously angry. 'If you had held your jaw,' said he, 'the paddy 
might have served again, but now it's of no use, as the yellow-hides will 
smell a rat.' At last we got tired of being cooped up, but the follow- 
ing day chased the Indians from the banks of the river, where they most 
annoyed us. We built upon rollers a large flat-boat with high gunwales. 
The rowers were secured and port-holes bored all around; when finished 
and ready we rolled it into the Monongahela and anchored it so we 
could fire up the Allegheny. The Indians were astonished, afraid to 
attack either boat or fort, as they would be between two fires. We 
raked them from the boat along the river banks. They set up the most 
diabolical yells I ever heard, retired up stream, but never again ventured 
so close in daylight." 

During all this time a terrible, scathing, ruthless border war was going 
on outside the forts along the whole line of frontier. Everywhere 
were experienced the same horrible cruelties — the sudden surprise, the 
massacre, the scalping, the burning. Many thousand people in Vir- 
ginia were driven from their homes. The people of Pennsylvania suf- 
fered quite as much. They left all and crowded into the interior towns 
for safety, living as best they could in huts or tents, or on the charities 
of friends. Lancaster had become a frontier town. The colonial gov- 
ernment was paralyzed by faction, and for a long time no adequate pro- 
tection was furnished. 

But this disgraceful state of things was about to end. Colonel Henry 
Bouquet, a Swiss, and one of the most able, resolute and energetic for- 
eign officers that ever served in this country, was coming to the aid ot 
Fort Pitt, and of the western frontier which that important post dom- 
inated. With every possible effort, he could only gather together about 
five hundred men, the shattered remains of two regiments of High- 
landers, enfeebled by West Indian exposure and disease. Sixty of them 
were so weak that they had to be conveyed in baggage wagons. When 
Bouquet reached Carlisle he found the whole country in a pitiable 
panic. The roads were crowded with flying families, and the towns 



Bouquet Comes to the Rescue. 151 

and villages were encumbered with a smitten and fugitive population. 
Instead of receiving supplies, therefore, as expected, he had to dispense 
them. Eighteen precious days were lost in collecting stores and pro- 
viding transportation, and the little command commenced its long 
wilderness march of two hundred miles with the worst forebodings of 
the whole people. Just out of Carlisle they passed a forlorn and pitia- 
ble multitude of wretched refugees, who, unable to find shelter in the 
town, had encamped in the woods or adjacent fields, erecting huts of 
bark or branches and living on the charities of the town. Think of it! 
Crowds of poor men, women and children; bereft of home, friends and 
the means of supporting life ; most of them haunted day and night 
with visions of the bloody knife and reeking scalps ! It was enough, 
foreigners as they were, to move the hearts of the passing soldiers to 
pity, and to nerve their arms to deeds of vengeance. We will see how 
good a record they made. 

The army pursued the route opened by Forbes on his expedi- 
tion against Fort Duquesne, and first relieving Forts Bedford and 
Ligonier, both beleaguered by Indians, struck gallantly forth into the 
pathless wilderness. Bouquet had hoped at Ligonier to get some late 
tidings from Fort Pitt, but no word had been heard from there for a 
month. The woods were alive with savages, and every messenger be- 
tween the two forts had been either killed or captured. Whether Fort 
Pitt stood or not, none knew — most probably not. The wagons were 
left behind, and everything needful packed on the horses, and, attended 
by the bleating of sheep and the lowing of cattle, the long, straggling 
train now wound its slow and toilsome way, like a huge serpent, through 
matted woods and across wild, dashing streams, dense walls of foliage 
on either side. Keen-eyed rangers scouted the woods on either flank. 
For nearly two days, in the sweltering heat of August, the troops 
fagged on. Before them now lay the dangerous defile of Turtle Creek, 
commanded for several miles by steep, craggy hills. Fearing an am- 
buscade, it was Bouquet's design to pass these by night, sweeping 
through so rapidly and stealthily that the savages could concert no at- 
tack. To do this a whole afternoon's rest was to be enjoyed at Bushy 
Run, which by noon of the 5th — after a wearisome march of seventeen 
miles — was declared to be only a half mile ahead. The jaded cattle 
and tired soldiers were pressing forward with renewed alacrity, when 
their fond anticipations suffered a rude and cruel interruption. 



162 Our Western Border. 



Bouquet's Desperate Battle of Bushy Run. 

A startling volley of firearms suddenly broke the forest stillness, 
causing every man's heart to leap to his throat and every man's hands 
to clutch his trusty musket. The drum beat to arms, the sharp 
command rang out loud and clear, but before ranks were closed up, the 
savages were upon them with a horrible din and clamor. Bouquet 
promptly ordered two companies to charge the ambuscade. As the 
files of gleaming bayonets steadily advanced, the savages broke and 
fled ; but only for a moment. They soon gathered again, rushed in 
from all sides, and in great force occupied the heights, almost com- 
pletely surrounding Bouquet's little army, and pouring in a most galling 
and fatal fire. A general charge along the whole line dislodged the 
swarming Indians from the heights, but the savages returned again and 
again to the attack, pouring in a murderous hail of fire in front and on 
both flanks, and even attacking the convoy in the rear. 

The contest became hotter and hotter, the savages rushing to the 
attack with wonderful spirit and resolution, and the British holding 
their own with obstinacy and tenacity. It was life or death with them. 
Darkness alone ended the bloody battle. The brave little force was 
almost completely worn out. The day had been exceedingly sultry : 
they had fought for seven hours on empty stomachs ; they were nearly 
tormented to death by thirst, and had coolly and with desperate courage 
withstood the galling hail from a fiery circle of whooping demons. 

Right in the leafy wilderness where they had fought, on this hot, sul- 
try August night, without one drop of water to cool their parched 
tongues and fevered bodies, the poor Highlanders sank down to rest. 
Over sixty of their number, including several officers, had been killed 
or wounded. A dropping fire, and occasional yells and whoops were 
kept up by the Indians ; and in constant fear of a desperate night at- 
tack, the anxious hours were dragged through. At the very first streak 
of dawn a horrible din of yells and shrieks burst forth on all sides of 
them, and volley after volley of bullets came whistling among their 
thinned ranks. The combat raged fiercer and hotter than the day be- 
fore. The Indians seemed more desperate and reckless. They would 
rush up to close quarters and fire from every bush and tree which could 
yield a cover. Although repulsed at every point, fresh Indians would 
take the places of the retreating, and the conflict raged more furiously 
as the day advanced. Yielding their ground when a charge was made, 
the crafty savages would vanish for a moment only to come out in a 
new spot. 



Desperate Battle of Bushy Run. 153 

The troops maddened by thirst, fainting from heat, and worn out by 
incessant charges which led to nothing, were almost completely ex- 
hausted. Their distress was so plainly visible, that the foe redoubled 
their horrid yells and fierce attacks, approaching so near as to deride 
and curse them in bad English. The whole camp was in utter con- 
fusion. The wounded and terror-stricken horses rushed frantically 
about, and the drivers concealed themselves or ran away, and all seemed 
lost. The defence became wavering and irresolute ; all hope had gone, 
and death or torture menaced the jaded but still brave survivors. If 
anything was to be done, then was just the time, and no moment to 
spare. 

Bouquet, happily, was equal to the occasion. In the very midst of 
despair he conceived and carried into immediate execution a masterly 
stratagem. He determined to get the Indians into one body, draw 
them into a trap, and then give them a furious bayonet charge, and so 
end the conflict. Two companies were ordered to fall back suddenly 
in the centre, while the troops on the flank should advance across the 
vacancy in the circle, as if to cover their retreat. Meanwhile another 
company of Light Infantry, with one of Grenadiers, were ordered to 
lie in ambush to support the first two companies on the feigned retreat. 
The stratagem took. These movements <were mistaken for defeat and 
retreat. The yelling, screeching demons, believing that their time had 
come at last, leaped from cover on all sides and rushed headlong to the 
spot, pouring in a most galling fire. It seemed for a moment that 
nothing could withstand that impetuous advance and attack, but the 
two companies which had retreated, had, under cover of the dense 
woods and underbrush, made a rapid and secret detour, and now burst 
out on each flank of the yelling, onrushing crowd of savages, and dis- 
charged a heavy volley right into their very midst. The Indians, though 
taken completely by surprise, faced about with great intrepidity, and 
boldly returned the fire, and essayed to recover ground. 

It was too late ! With a wild, fierce yell of rage, the Highlanders 
were upon them with the cold steel. A well-conducted bayonet charge 
an Indian has never and will never stand. The shock was irresistible, 
and they fled in a tumultuous mob. Now the two other companies, 
who had been crouched in ambush, awaiting the moment to strike, put 
in an appearance. As the fugitive throng, pressed back by the ad- 
vancing wall of bristling steel, passed directly across their front, they 
rose and poured in a destructive volley, which ended the whole matter. 
The four companies now uniting, soon changed flight to utter rout. 
No time was given them to reload ; many were shot or driven down, 
while the rest were scattered in remediless confusion throughout the woods. 



154 Our Western Border. 

While all this took place in one part of the circle, the remaining 
savages on the other sides first watched, then wavered, then lost heart, 
and finally betook themselves to headlong flight. And thus was this 
gallant little force, and its brave and skillful commander, saved from a 
terrible disaster — snatched from the very jaws of death. Forty In- 
dians, some of them their chief warriors, had been slain outright. 
Bouquet lost about fifty killed, and had about sixty wounded. The 
troops had so greatly suffered, and so many horses had been lost, that 
large amounts of stores had to be destroyed. The march was still 
difficult and tedious, though entirely unmolested, and it was not until 
four days after this bloody struggle that Bouquet arrived at Fort Pitt 
with his convoy, and thus raised the siege. 

It was Guyasutha's band of besieging Indians which were so crush- 
ingly defeated at Bushy Run. They had gone out with confidence 
against the little force, judging shrewdly that if it could be defeated as 
was Braddock's much larger command but a few years previous, Fort 
Pitt must finally be theirs. Now all was altered. There was no rally- 
ing from that crushing overthrow, and the baffled Ohio savages retired 
sullenly to their homes beyond the Allegheny. Bouquet was most 
anxious to follow up his victory by marching at once into the heart of 
the enemy's country, and wringing from the hostile tribes a treaty, 
which would at once put an end to these scenes of rapine and slaughter, 
but his force was too small and the season too far. advanced. He 
busied himself, therefore, during the Fall and Winter in restoring quiet 
along the frontier, and in gathering an adequate force for an early 
Spring campaign. It was not, however, till the next August that he 
was ready to move from Carlisle, his troops consisting of his old High- 
landers — such as were left of them — a thousand Pennsylvanians, and a 
small but invaluable corps of Virginia rangers. With this imposing 
force the plan was for him to march against the Shawnees, Delawares 
and Mingoes of Ohio, while Colonel Bradstreet should advance into 
the lake country, reduce the Ottawas, Chippewas and Wyandots, and 
relieve Detroit. During the Spring and Summer, Indian marauds and 
massacres had been renewed with such devastating effect that Pennsyl- 
vania had at last been compelled, in compliance with the earnest de- 
mand of the whole frontier, to offer a high bounty for scalps— men, 
women and children. 

On September 13th Bouquet arrived with his army at Fort Pitt. 
Various delegations from the Ohio tribes, who had all retired beyond 
the Muskingum, endeavored on various pretexts to delay the expedition 
until too late in the season, but Bouquet was perfectly convinced that 
the oniy possible peace was to be secured by a show of rigor and 



Desperate Battle of Bushy Run. 



155 



power. He could neither be wheedled or bullied into any fatal delay. 
And so on the 3d of October the array crossed the Allegheny, and de- 
filing into the Indian trail, struck boldly out into the trackless wilder- 
ness. It was accompanied by long trains of pack horses and immense 
droves of cattle, and was preceded by three scouting parties of rangers, 
one of which kept the trail while the other two moved on the flanks. 
This whole expedition, together with the various incidents attending it, 
is replete with a romantic interest, but we have only room for results, 



Y~\ 



r\ 




ft? -— K»v*=- 



toons Marking out his own grave, — See page 287, 



156 Our Western Border. 



Bouquet in the Heart of the Indian Country. 

The course lay along the Ohio to Big Beaver and thence to Yellow 
and Sandy Creeks directly to the Tuscarawas, a continuation of the 
Muskingum, which was reached on the tenth day. The march had been 
conducted in silence entirely through the vast primeval forest, and had 
been met with no obstructions whatever. They were now approaching 
the homes, hitherto sacred and secure, of the tribes which had been 
causing all the late mischief. News of their coming and of the imposing 
size of the army, as well as the skill and boldness of its commander, had 
long preceded them, and a great fear fell upon the contumacious tribes. 
Their hearts were now inclined to peace. Fleet runners went to and 
fro between the different towns. Grand councils were held; eloquent 
harangues were made ; the young and ardent were overruled by the older 
and more prudent warriors, and the result was a large delegation of 
chiefs to sue for peace and endeavor to stay Bouquet's further progress. 

A large bower was built near the camp for the conference. A grand 
parade was made that the chiefs might be duly impressed, and the 
negotiations commenced. The great chiefs Guyasutha, Turtle's Heart 
and Custaloga headed the deputation. Painted and plumed in all their 
savage pomp, they walked with majesty, not deigning to cast a glance 
at the grand military display around them. They seated themselves 
with stern, impassive looks, and an air of sullen dignity, while their 
black and sombre brows betrayed the hatred still rankling in their hearts. 
The pipe went round in solemn silence, and then from their pouches 
were drawn their strings of wampum, without which no conference can 
be conducted. The chiefs as usual laid the whole blame of the war on 
their young men, whom they said they could not control, and upon the 
nations who lived to the west of them. Bouquet, well understanding 
the Indian character and how best to treat them, now dismissed them, 
promising an answer the next day. 

That day being very wet and rainy, however, he made no reply until 
the next, when the council being all duly assembled, Bouquet made a 
bold, haughty, uncompromising harangue, asserting that their excuses 
for the late marauds were weak and frivolous ; reciting their numerous 
acts of perfidy ; declaring that he would no longer be imposed upon; 
that he had brought with him the relations of the people they had 
massacred and made captive, and that he could scarce restrain them 
from taking revenge. He then gave them twelve days to deliver to him 
every person with white blood, in their hands — men, women and child- 
ren — and to furnish said prisoners with horses, clothing and provision? 



Bouquet in the' Heart of the Indian Country. 157 

to carry them back to Fort Pitt. These were the only terms on which he 
would make peace. The chiefs, finding Bouquet in dead earnest, were 
prompt to comply. His bold, resolute speech and mien made a pro- 
found impression on the haughty circle of swarthy listeners. Their 
stubborn pride was subdued, their arrogance abated, and the Delawares 
at once gave up eighteen prisoners then with them, and eighty-three 
small sticks denoting the number of other captives in their possession, 
whom they pledged themselves to bring in right away. 

None of the Shawnee chiefs took part in this conference, but their 
deputy also promised, with sullen dejection, that his nation would com- 
ply with the terms. But Bouquet wisely determined to follow up his 
advantage and to march deeper into their country, shrewdly judging 
that the presence of his powerful force within easy striking distance of 
their towns, would be the best possible security for the prompt fulfill- 
ment of these promises; so, for the next three days, he marched down 
to the forks of the Muskingum, where he made a strong fortified camp, 
erecting redoubts, storehouses and other buildings for the reception of 
the expected captives, who were to be taken charge of by officers and 
matrons duly selected. The camp soon had the appearance of a little 
town, the order and regularity of which struck the onlooking and over- 
awed Indians with astonishment. The constant sound of the axe, the 
lowing of cattle, the well-drilled army so rapidly located within the very 
heart of their own territory, moved them to such unusual activity, that 
on the 27th, messengers arrived from the Delaware king, Custaloga, that 
he was on his way with his prisoners, and a message of like effect from 
the Shawnees. About two weeks were spent at this camp, exchanging 
messages with relation to the prisoners, who were now being daily brought 
into camp. So strict was Bouquet in having all produced, that when 
Kings Beaver and Custaloga had brought in all but twelve, promising 
to bring them, too, in a few days, he refused to shake hands with or 
have a word to say to them until every single captive was in. 

By the 9th of November there had been delivered of Virginians thir- 
ty-two males anc[ fifty-eight females and children, and of Pennsylva- 
nians forty-nine males and sixty-seven females and children, a total of 
two hundred and six. A hundred more were in the hands of the Shaw- 
nees, which, on account of those owning them having gone on a distant 
expedition, could not then be delivered, but they were solemnly prom- 
ised early in the Spring at Fort Pitt. The Shawnees were ever a fierce, 
warlike and jealous tribe, and when the "pale-face" army entered their 
country, reports had reached them that their tribe was to be completely 
extirpated, upon which they had fully resolved to kill all their prison- 
ers, and then to march out and give battle, and fight to the bitter end. 



158 Our Western Border. 

Happily for them and the poor captives, they received a friendly mes- 
sage from Bouquet, sent as they were preparing to execute their horrible 
purpose, to the effect that peace would be made with them on the same 
terms as with the Delawares, if they would send in all of white blood 
with them. 

Again, while actually on the way, they somehow heard that one of 
Bouquet's soldiers had been secretly killed near camp, and that some of 
their tribe were charged with the bloody deed. This decided them anew 
to make an heroic resistance, and collecting all their captives in a field, 
they were about to tomahawk them entire, when a runner fortunately 
arrived from Bouquet, who, on hearing of the report current among 
them, ridiculed it as absurd, and urged them to continue their journey. 

A final conference was now held, and peace granted, first to the Sen- 
ecas and Delawares, and afterwards to the Shawnees, who had all along 
acted with such a sullen and disdainful haughtiness that Bouquet was 
fearful lest they should yet play him false. The biting blasts of Winter, 
however, commenced to prevail; the foliage had all fallen from the trees 
and every sign warned him that any longer delay would be dangerous. 
He was, therefore, obliged to rest satisfied with such prisoners as they 
saw fit to bring ; exacting renewed promises that the rest should shortly 
be delivered at Fort Pitt, and compelling them to deliver to him six 
hostages for the faithful performance of all their pledges. 

Touching Scenes on the Delivery of the Captives. 

And now we enter upon the description of touching and pathetic 
scenes which have no parallel in history, and to which no pen could do 
justice. If the exhibitions of human tenderness and affection daily 
presented in that sylvan camp were not so well attested, they would seem 
actually incredible. They reflect as much honor on the Indians as on 
the whites — yes, far more ! for these captives belonged to and were taken 
from a race they hated ; whom they were taught to look upon as grasp- 
ing, usurping and vindictive enemies. From the graphic account of 
Hutchins, the geographer, who accompanied the expedition, we quote 
as follows: "It was a most affecting spectacle to see fathers and mothers 
recognizing and clasping their once lost babes; husbands hanging around 
the necks of their newly-recovered wives; sisters and brothers unex- 
pectedly meeting together after long separations, scarce able to speak 
the same language, or, for some time, to be sure they were children of 
the same parents. In all these interviews joy and rapture inexpressible 
were seen, while feelings of a very different nature were painted in the 
looks of others ; flying from place to place in eager inquiries after rela- 
tives not found ; trembling to receive an answer to their questions .; dis- 



Scenes on the Delivery of the Captives. 159 

tracted with doubts, hopes and fears on obtaining no account of those 
they sought for, or stiffened into living monuments of horror and woe 
on learning their unhappy fate. 

'•The Indians, too, as if wholly forgetting their usual savageness, 
bore a capital part in heightening this most affecting scene. They 
delivered up their beloved captives with the utmost reluctance ; shed 
torrents of tears over them, recommending them to the care and pro- 
tection of the commanding officer. Their regard to them continued all 
the time they remained in camp. They visited them from day to day ; 
and brought them what corn, skins, horses and other matters they had 
bestowed on them, while in their families ; accompanied with other 
presents and all the marks of most sincere and tender affection. 

" Nay, they did not stop here, but, when the army marched, some of 
the Indians solicited and obtained leave to accompany their captives all 
the way to Fort Pitt, and employed themselves in hunting and bringing 
provisions for them on the road. A young Mingo carried this still fur- 
ther and gave an instance of love which would make -a figure even in 
romance. A young woman from Virginia was among the captives, to 
whom he had formed so strong an attachment as to call her his wife, 
Against all remonstrances of the imminent danger to which he exposed 
himself by approaching the frontier, he persisted in following her, at 
the risk of being killed by the surviving relatives of many unfortunate 
persons who had been captured or scalped by those of his nation. 

"These qualities in savages challenge our just esteem. Cruel and 
unmerciful as they are by habit and long example in war, yet whenever 
they come to give way to the native dictates of humanity, they exercise 
virtues which Christians need not blush to imitate. When they once 
determine to give life, they give everything with it. No woman thus 
saved is preserved for base motives, or need fear the violation of her 
honor. No child is otherwise treated by the persons adopting it than 
the children of their own body. Every captive whom their affection, 
their caprice, or whatever else, leads them to save, fares alike with 
themselves. 

"Among the captives a woman was brought into the camp with a 
babe about three months old, at the breast. One of the Virginia vol- 
unteers soon knew her to be his wife, who had been taken by the 
Indians about six months before. She was immediately delivered to her 
overjoyed husband. Pie flew with her to his tent and clothed her and 
his child in proper apparel. But their joy, after the first transports, 
was soon damped by the reflection that another dear child of about two 
years old, captured with the mother • and separated from her, was still 
missing, although many children had been brought in. 



160 Our Western Border. 

" A few days after a number of other prisoners were brought to the 
camp, among whom were several more children. The woman was sent 
for and one, supposed to be hers, was produced to her. At first sight 
she was uncertain, but viewing the child with great earnestness, she soon 
•recollected its features and was so overcome with joy that literally for- 
getting her sucking child, she dropped it from her arms and catching up 
the new-found child in an ecstacy, pressed it to her breast and bursting 
into tears carried it off, unable to speak for joy. The father catching 
up the babe she had let fall, followed her in no less transport and affec- 
tion. 

" Among the children who had been carried off young and had long 
lived with the Indians, it is not to be expected that any marks of joy 
would appear on being restored to their parents or relatives. Having 
been accustomed to look upon the Indians as the only connections they 
had ; having been tenderly treated by them and speaking their lan- 
guage, it is no wonder they parted from the savages with tears. But it 
must not be denied that there were even some grown persons who 
showed an unwillingness to return. The Shawnees were obliged to bind 
several of their prisoners and force them along to the camp ; and some 
women who had been delivered up, afterwards found means to escape 
and run back to the Indian towns. Some, who could not make their 
escape, clung to their savage acquaintances at parting, and continued 
many days in bitter lamentations, even refusing sustenance." 

All matters being now satisfactorily adjusted, the wilderness camp 
was broken up ; the refreshed army commenced their backward march, 
and in ten days was back at Fort Pitt. Colonel Bouquet soon returned 
to Philadelphia, receiving, wherever he went, every possible mark of 
gratitude, but more especially from the overjoyed relatives of the many 
captives whom he had so happily restored to their families. The Assem- 
blies of Pennsylvania and Virginia voted him addresses, while the home 
government promoted him to the rank of Brigadier General, placing 
him in command of the southern department. He did not long survive, 
however, to enjoy his honors, dying three years after at Pensacola. 

We need only add, that the Shawnees faithfully redeemed their 
pledges. Ten chiefs, attended by about fifty warriors, came in with 
over a hundred captives to Fort Pitt the next May. In the grand 
council which ensued they said : " These captives have all been united 
to us by adoption, and although we deliver them up to you, we will 
always look upon them as our relations. We have taken as much care 
of them as if they were our own flesh and blood. They have become 
strange to your customs and manners, and we request you to- use them 
kindly and tenderly." 



Desperate Battle of Point Pleasant. 161 



THE DESPERATE BATTLE OF POINT PLEASANT. 

Peace and quiet reigned for a time along the troubled and harassed 
western border. Now may be said to have commenced the explorations 
of the Great West by daring and adventurous hunters, and we approach 
a new and a very interesting era in American history. The glowing 
reports brought back by Smith, Finley, Boone, Stewart and their com- 
panions, as well as many Indian traders, excited a wide-spread longing 
among the young men of the old settlements, to migrate to the West. 
It was pictured to their fancies as a new Eldorado — a magnificent region, 
abounding in vast forests, clear streams teeming with fish and in every 
species of fragrant flowers. It was a boundless land; with soft a*nd genial 
clime ; with soil of wondrous freshness, and the luxuriant woods stocked 
with game in every variety, from the beaver to the buffalo. The 
savages who either inhabited or roamed over this "hunter's paradise," 
seeing the land sold from under their feet by the Iroquois of New York, 
and witnessing with a fierce anger and jealousy this new tide of hardy 
and daring pioneers, naturally began to grow restless and hostile. A 
deep and bitter feeling of hate and rancor was evidently growing in 
their proud and haughty bosoms. But still remembering British power 
and past punishment, they managed to keep the peace until 1774, when a 
canoe filled with friendly redmen was attacked below Wheeling by Michael 
Cresap, and another attack was made by the same party upon an Indian 
camp at the mouth of Captina Creek, twenty miles below. 

These were clearly the exciting causes of what is known in history as 
" Dunmore's war of 1774." It is true, however, that the magazine 
was fully charged before, only needing the match to explode it. These 
bloody deeds were immediately followed by a horrid and entirely un- 
provoked massacre of Indians at the mouth of Yellow Creek, in which 
were killed some of the relatives of Logan, the famous Mingo Chief. 
This cowardly and treacherous butchery was perpetrated by thirty-two 
men led by Daniel Greathouse, and reflects the deepest dishonor upon 
all concerned. The pretext to the attack was, that as the Captina mas- 
sacre shortly before would undoubtedly provoke an Indian war, it was 
better to take the initiative. Opposite the mouth of Yellow Creek was 
the house of a man named Baker. Greathouse's party being gathered 
there, saw the encampment of an Indian hunting party across the Ohio, 
and an ambush being laid, Greathouse crossed the river under the mask 
11 



162 Our Western Border. 

of friendship to ascertain the number. The .presence of women and 
children clearly proved to him that it was no war party. 

While there a squaw urged him to retire at once as the Indians were 
drinking heavily, and, being excited by the murders of their people 
below Wheeling, might do him mischief. Greathouse reported to his 
band that the savages were too strong for an open assault, but urged 
Baker to give all the Indians who came over as much rum as they could 
drink. A canoe with six warriors, two squaws and a little girl soon 
crossed, and the men becoming hopelessly drunk, were set upon by a 
few of Greathouse's men — the rest protesting against the atrocious and 
perfidious murder — and all were cruelly butchered but the girl. The 
Indians in camp, hearing the firing on the other side, sent a canoe 
paddled by two men, to ascertain the cause. These, too, were shot 
down like dogs, as soon as they made the beach. A larger canoe was 
then manned by a number of savages and sent across. They were 
received by a fatal volley from an ambush on shore, and the survivors 
compelled to return. Shots were then exchanged across the Ohio, but 
without further damage. These two massacres embraced the whole of 
Logan's family. 

A prodigious excitement prevailed along the Virginia frontier after 
these wanton and unholy deeds, and the scattered settlers, knowing full 
well that the savages would retaliate, lost no time in erecting forts and 
stations for their protection. Many of these were for the next twenty 
years famous as the scenes of many a desperate struggle. Expresses 
were also dispatched to Governor Dunmore, at Williamsburg, to send 
out immediate aid. Measures were at .once adopted by the House of 
Burgesses for organizing and equipping an adequate force. Boone and 
Stoner were ordered to bring in the surveyors, out in various directions, 
which task was promptly and successfully executed; but the unfortunate 
traders then busy in the Indian country, peddling their wares from town 
to town, could not be so easily warned or rescued. Some of these fell 
the first victims to the redman's vengeance. One near the town of 
White Eyes, the great Peace Chief of the Delawares, was literally hacked 
to pieces, and the fragments of his body hung up on the bushes. The 
kindly chief, however — of whom we shall hear much hereafter — gath- 
ered them together and buried them ; they were disinterred and again 
scattered by the infuriated perpetrators, but the kindness of the chief 
was as persistent as their hatred, and again he collected the disjecta 
membra and hid them in a secret place. 

It being thought best to assume the offensive, a force of four hun- 
dred was hastily gathered at Fort Henry, (now Wheeling, West Va.,) 
and, led by Colonel Angus McDonald and piloted by Jonathan Zane, 



Desperate Battle of Point Pleasant 163 

a hurried expedition was made against Wappatomica, on the Mus- 
kingum,, situated near what is now Coshockton, Ohio. The march 
was a success. The savages having been frustrated in an expected sur- 
prise of the invaders, deserted their town, sued for peace, and delivered 
up five chiefs as hostages. It being found, however, that the Indians 
meant war, and were only desirous of gaining time until their forces 
should be gathered, the Virginians proceeded to destroy their towns 
and crops, and retreated, carrying three chiefs to Fort Henry. But 
this only incensed the savages. The storm that had been aroused was 
too violent and wide-spread to be easily allayed. Nothing but blood 
could wipe out their wrongs. While the other Indians were hesitating 
on their course, and the great Cornstalk was exerting himself to placate 
his angry followers, Logan, who, by the wanton murder of his rela- 
tives, had been converted into a bitter foe of the whites, suddenly 
swooped down like a whirlwind upon the Monongahela settlements and 
carried away nineteen scalps. 

But Logan, although a much-wronged man, was also a kind man. 
At this very attack, a man named Robinson was making off for the 
woods when he heard behind him a voice crying out in very good 
English, "Stop! I won't hurt you!" "Yes, you will," replied 

Robinson. "No, I won't, but if you don't stop, by I'll shoot 

you !" Robinson still forged ahead, but while looking over his 
shoulder to watch the expected tomahawk, he stumbled over a log, fell, 
and was immediately clutched by his pursuer, who told him he must 
quietly go captive, and assured him he should not be hurt. It was 
Logan ! He continued his kindness, for when Robinson was afterwards 
compelled to run the gauntlet, the Mingo chief so instructed him that 
he escaped without injury. He was afterwards tied to a stake to be 
burned, but the chief ran and spoke strongly for some time in behalf of 
the captive. Three times was the intended victim tied to the stake, 
but at length Logan's masterly eloquence prevailed, and he was released, 
taken to Logan's own lodge, and some time after returned home. Rob- 
inson afterwards used to say that Logan's countenance, when speaking, 
was the most striking and impressive that he ever beheld. Logan made 
as strenuous efforts afterwards, as we shall see, to procure the release of 
the famous Simon Kenton. 

Predatory bands of Indians now pushed forward in various directions, 
and the border suffered greatly from marauds and attacks, from June 
until September. In the meantime two formidable bodies of troops 
were slowly gathering to beat back these desolating savage gangs and 
restore quiet to the frontier. The one from South and West Virginia 
was to be led by General Andrew Lewis : the other from North and 



164 Our Western Border. 

East Virginia to be under command of Governor Dunmore himself, and 
which, descending the Ohio from Fort Pitt, was to meet Lewis' army 
at the mouth of the Kanawha. Lewis, with eleven hundred men, 
reached the point agreed upon on the 6th of October, but, Dunmore 
not having arrived, he sent scouts — both Simon Girty and Simon 
Kenton were acting as scouts in this campaign, a fact, as will be here- 
after shown, to which Kenton owed his life — and . soon received dis- 
patches to the effect that the plan of campaign was altered ; that he 
(Dunmore) would proceed directly against the Shawnee towns on the 
Scioto, and Lewis was ordered to join him before those towns. 

This could not be done, however, without a desperate struggle — one 
of the most severe and well-fought battles that has ever occurred be- 
tween the red and white races. The next morning, October ioth, '74, 
General Lewis was preparing to move as directed, when a scout reported 
that he and a companion had been out hunting, and had discovered a 
large body of Indians just rising from their encampment, which covered 
about four acres, and that while his partner had been shot, he had made 
good his escape. As this meant that the Indians were strong enough to 
cross the Ohio to take the offensive, all was, of course, immediate sur- 
prise and confusion, but General Lewis, calm as was the morning itself, 
lighted his pipe with the greatest coolness and ordered out the regiment 
under Colonel Chas. Lewis, his brother, and that of Colonel Fleming, 
to reconnoitre the ground. 

General Andrew Lewis — The Battle Rages — The Savages 
Retreat. 

Before battle is joined, however, let us say something of the com- 
mander of this gallant army, which contained the very flower of Vir- 
ginia, and embraced many names afterwards highly distinguished. Gen- 
eral Andrew Lewis had served as Captain of the Virginia Rangers at the 
disastrous battle of Braddocks Fields, and had five brothers in his com- 
pany. He afterwards served as Major in Washington's regiment, Forbes' 
army, and was with Major Grant in that officer's foolish bravado before 
Fort Duquesne, having the misfortune to be wounded and taken pris- 
oner. McClung asserts — with what authority we are ignorant — that 
while he and Grant were on parole at the French fort, a quarrel broke 
out between them, much to the amusement of the French. Grant, in 
his plispatches captured by the Indians, had made Lewis the scapegoat 
for his own defeat, whereas, in truth, the only execution that was done 
was effected by the Virginia troops. On leaving the fort, Lewis went 
in search of Grant, and, drawing his sword, directed his former com- 
mander to defend himself on the spot. Grant contemptuously refused 



General Andrew Lewis. 165 

to comply, upon which Lewis cursed him for a liar and a coward, and, 
in the presence of two French officers, actually spat in his face. 

General Lewis' person considerably exceeded six feet in height, as 
did, indeed, that of most every man under him. He had a splendid 
■physique, and was of a very imposing appearance. His countenance 
was stern and manly, expressive of that daring and energy which ever 
distinguished him. His manners were cold, plain and unbending, and 
his conversation short, pithy and to the point. At the general treaty 
with the tribes in '63, General Lewis was the "observed of all ob r 
servers," and his majestic military appearance not only attracted atten- 
tion but inspired awe. The Governor of New York then declared that 
he "looked like the genius of the forest, and that the earth seemed to 
tremble beneath his footsteps." The General had a brother and three 
sons — two of them privates — in his division. 

Colonel Charles Lewis now instantly advanced, and was soon engaged 
with the enemy, composed of Shawnees, Mingoes, Delawares and 
Tawas, about a thousand strong, led by the celebrated Shawnee chiei, 
Cornstalk, and assisted by his son, Elenipsico, by Logan, Red Eagle and 
other prominent chiefs. Colonel Fleming, who advanced along the 
Ohio, also found the enemy close by, and a very hot and fierce struggle 
at once ensued. Colonel Charles Lewis, being in full uniform, and a 
conspicuous mark for the enemy, was soon mortally wounded, as was 
also, soon after, Colonel Fleming. The troops were much discouraged, 
and being pressed by the savages with unusual vigor, were compelled to 
beat a retreat. At this critical moment, General Lewis ordered up 
Field's regiment, which, meeting the retiring troops, rallied them again, 
and not only restored the fortunes of the day, but compelled the In- 
dians, in their turn, to retreat to a very strong position — one that was 
not easily assailable. 

The contest now became more desperate than ever and was still stub- 
bornly maintained by both parties — who were about equal in numbers — ■ 
with consummate skill, valor and energy. The savages, sure of success 
when they previously beheld the troops give way, fought with a vigor 
and steadiness never surpassed in all the annals of savage warfare. 
Neither party would retreat ; neither could advance. The noise of the 
terrible conflict was tremendous. The cheers of the whites and the 
yells of the infuriated savages, together with the incessant discharge of 
firearms, kept up an appalling din. The love for scalps on the part of 
the redskins caused them to make many daring dashes and imprudent 
exposures, and three of them were successively shot down over one body, 
in an attempt to secure the trophy they so much coveted. 

The action was fought on the narrow point of land between the Ohio 



166 Our Western Border. 

and Kanawha. As the repeated efforts of the whites to carry the 
enemy's position grew more desperate, the Indian line began to waver, 
and at several points, to give way. The deep voice of Cornstalk could 
now be distinctly heard above all the din of battle as he urged his 
dusky crew to the conflict and shouted: "Be strong! Be strong!" 
He even buried his keen tomahawk in the brain of one of his faltering 
warriors and indignantly shaming the rest, made good again the line of 
battle. 

Colonel Field fell about this time, and, at length, General Lewis, 
alarmed at the extent of his losses and the obstinacy of his swarthy foe, 
made an effort to turn the enemy's flank by way of Crooked Creek, 
with three of his best companies. This timely manoeuvre was partially 
successful. The enemy's fire began to slacken, and at last they began 
to retire slowly and in such order that they laid ambushes for all the 
whites who pressed on them too fast. So the contest lasted till dark, 
when Cornstalk effected a secure retreat. The Virginian loss was 
severe, embracing three Provincial officers and some sixty men killed 
and ninety-six wounded. The enemy's loss was also heavy, but its 
extent could never be exactly ascertained, as during the very hottest of 
the action they were seen busily engaged throwing the dead into the 
Ohio and carrying off their wounded. Thirty-three dusky bodies were 
found on the field the next day. During the night they crossed the 
Ohio and made off for the Scioto towns. 

This battle was the very last that took place under British dominion. 
It was one of the longest and most obstinately-contested struggles that 
ever occurred on the western frontier, lasting from sunrise to sunset. 
The line of battle was at times a mile long, and at points the contest- 
ants came to close quarters with tomahawks and clubbed muskets. The 
Indian army comprised the pick of the Ohio tribes. Cornstalk's tower- 
ing form could frequently be seen gliding from point to point, rebuking 
the fearful and reassuring the wavering. It is asserted that on the even- 
ing preceding the battle, this distinguished chief, fearing the issue of 
the approaching struggle, openly proposed in council to go in person to 
the camp of General Lewis and negotiate an honorable peace. His 
voice, however, was overruled. "Then," said he, "since you are 
resolved to fight you shall fight. It is likely we will have hard work 
to-morrow, but if any warrior shall attempt to run away, I will kill hirn 
with my own hand." 

Subsequent Atrocious Murder of Cornstalk and his Son. 

We may as well here follow the brave Cornstalk until he met his sad 

fate m the year '77. It is not a little singular that all the prominent 



Atrocious Murder of Cornstalk and his Son. 167 

chiefs who commanded in this battle were murdered, and two of them 
close by the battlefield. Not very long after this action, Captain 
Arbuckle commanded the fort erected at Point Pleasant, and the next 
year, when the revolutionary struggle had commenced, and British 
agents were exerting themselves to excite the Indians to take sides 
against the patriots, Cornstalk and Red Hawk — not showing the un- 
quenchable hatred which always animated the Shawnees against the 
Americans — visited Arbuckle and declared that the Shawnees were de- 
termined on war, and he supposed that he and his would be reluctantly 
compelled to drift with the stream. Arbuckle on hearing this, resolved 
to detain the two chiefs, hoping thereby to keep their tribe neutral. 

One day Elenipsico, Cornstalk's son, crossed the Ohio on a visit to 
his father. He is said to have been a very noble and promising young 
chief. The very next morning two hunters from the fort were ambushed 
in the woods and one of them, Gillmore by name, was killed. The 
soldiers of the company to which Gillmore belonged crossed the Kan- 
awha and brought back his mutilated remains. The canoe had scarce 
touched the shore when Captain Hall's men cried out "Let us kill the 
Indians in the fort." Captain Hall placed himself at their head, and 
they all marched up the bank, maddened with rage and carrying their 
loaded firelocks in their hands. Colonel Stewart and Captain Arbuckle 
exerted themselves in vain to prevent the bloody, treacherous deed, but 
exasperated to fury by the spectacle of Gillmore's scalped head, they 
rushed into the fort, threatening instant death to all who dared oppose 
them. 

The interpreter's wife, who had been a captive among the Indians 
and felt an affection for the visitors, ran forward and told them that 
Hall's soldiers were coming to take their lives because they believed 
that the Indians who killed Gillmore had come with Cornstalk's son the 
preceding day. This the young chief solemnly denied, averring that 
he knew nothing whatever of them. His father, perceiving that Elenip- 
sico was in great agitation, encouraged him, and urged him to cast aside 
all fear. "If, my son," said he, " the Great Spirit has seen fit that we 
should die together, it is His will, and you ought to die like a man." 
As the soldiers approached the door, Cornstalk rose, and with great dig- 
nity advanced to meet them, receiving eight or nine balls in his body 
and sank to instant death without a groan. His son remained still and 
passive and was next shot dead in the seat he occupied. Red Hawk 
made an attempt to escape by the chimney but was dragged out and 
dispatched. The remaining Shawnee was shamefully mangled and the 
horrid tragedy was over. 



168 Our Western Border. 



The Murder of the Great Chief Bald Eagle. 

We might have mentioned one other cause, somewhat similar to the 
one just related, as contributing to the Indian rancor against the " Long 
Knives," as they called the Virginians. The wanton murder, some 
little time before, of Bald Eagle, an aged Delaware sachem, was pecu- 
liarly irritating to that warlike nation. He spoke the English language 
with great fluency, and being remarkably fond of tobacco, sweetmeats, 
and rum, all of which were generally offered to him in profusion in the 
settlements, he was a frequent visitor at the fort erected at the mouth of 
the Kanawha, and familiarly acquainted even with the children. He 
usually ascended the river alone, in a bark canoe, and, from the fre- 
quency and harmlessness of his visits, his appearance never excited the 
least alarm. A white man, who had suffered much from the Indians, 
encountered the old chief one evening alone upon the river, returning 
peaceably from one of his usual visits. A conference ensued, which 
terminated in a quarrel, and the old man was killed upon the spot. The 
murderer, having scalped his victim, fixed the dead body in the usual 
sitting posture in the stern of the boat, replaced the pipe in his mouth, 
and, launching the canoe again upon the river, permitted it to float 
down with its burden undisturbed. Many settlers beheld it descending 
in this manner, but, from the upright posture of the old man, they 
supposed that he was only returning, as usual, from a visit to the whites. 
The truth, however, was quickly discovered, and inflamed his tribe with 
the most ungovernable rage. Vengeance was vowed for the outrage, 
and amply exacted. 

After the battle of Point Pleasant, General Lewis crossed the Ohio 
and marched rapidly towards the Scioto to meet Governor Dunmore, 
according to orders. At the Pickaway Plains, and within easy striking 
distance of old Chillicothe and the chief Indian towns, he was met by 
a message from Dunmore, who was encamped not far distant, ordering 
him to stop, as he, Dunmore, was about to negotiate a peace with the 
Indians. Indignant at the manner in which he had been treated, and 
finding his rear threatened by a large force of savages, Lewis kept on, 
disregarding likewise a second dispatch, until he had approached within 
a few miles of old Chillicothe. The Governor now became uneasy, and, 
accompanied by White Eyes, the celebrated Delaware chief, he peremp- 
torily ordered Lewis to halt. 

It is asserted that at this untimely arrest of their march, and when 
they were in position and in condition to inflict condign punishment 
and to conquer a lasting peace, it was with difficulty that the Virginian 



Murder of the Great Chief Bald Eagle. 169 

commander could restrain his men from killing Dunmore, who was 
deemed a traitor to his country. Lewis was now ordered to return forth- 
with to Point Pleasant and disband, while Dunmore returned to Camp 
Charlotte and concluded a treaty. The chief orator on the Indian side 
was Cornstalk, who openly charged the whites with being the sole cause 
of the war, enumerating the many provocations received by them, and 
dwelling at length and with force upon the murder of Logan's family. 
His clear, bugle voice could be distinctly heard over the whole camp of 
twelve acres. He had ever been the friend of the whites, and after his 
late defeat by General Lewis, he led his broken and scattered bands to 
their towns, and immediately convened a council to determine upon 
what was next to be done. The stern old chief arose, and glancing 
around with eagle eye upon the assembly of chiefs and oldest warriors, 
he put the question: "What shall we do now? The 'Long Knives' 
are coming upon us by two routes. Shall we turn out and fight them?" 
No response being made, he continued: "Shall we kill all our squaws 
and children, and then fight until we are all killed ourselves?" Still 
the congregated warriors were silent, and, after a moment's hesitation, 
Cornstalk struck his tomahawk into the war post, and with compressed 
lips and flashing eye, gazed around the assembled throng and said, with 
great emphasis : "Since you are not inclined to fight, I will go and make 
peace; " and thus it was he met Dunmore before the arrival of General 
Lewis. This ended the campaign, and a temporary and hollow peace 
was patched up. Next year came the Revolution. 



170 Our Western Border. 



SKETCH OF LOGAN, THE FAMED MINGO CHIEF. 

Mislike me not for my complexion 

The shadowed livery of the burnished sun. — Shakspeare* 

There was one chief, however, whose face was not seen and whose 
voice was not heard at the camp of Lord Dunmore, and that was Logan, 
the far-famed Mingo (which means Iroquois) Chief. He, however, is 
said to have sent the following speech, which has been published over 
the whole world, and has ever since its publication formed a staple 
model of oration for aspiring youth : " I appeal to any white man to 
say, if ever he entered Logan's cabin hungry, and he gave him not 
meat; if ever he came cold and naked, and he clothed him not. 
During the course of the last long and bloody war, Logan remained 
idle in his cabin, an advocate for peace. Such was my love for the 
whites that my countrymen pointed as they passed, and said, f Logan 
is the friend of white men.' I had even thought to have lived with 
you, but for the injuries of one man, Colonel Cresap, who last Spring, 
in cold blood and unprovoked, murdered all the relations of Logan, not 
even sparing my women and children. There runs not a drop of my 
blood in the veins of any living creature. This called on me for re- 
venge. I have sought it; I have killed many; I have fully glutted my 
vengeance. For my country I rejoice at the beams of peace. But do 
not harbor a thought that mine is the joy of fear. Logan never felt 
fear ! He will not turn on his heel to save his life. Who is there to 
mourn for Logan ? Not one." 

Jefferson published this speech in 1784, employing the following com- 
plimentary language concerning it : " I may challenge the whole ora- 
tions of Demosthenes and Cicero to pronounce a single passage superior 
to the speech of Logan, a Mingo Chief, to Lord Dunmore." The 
speech immediately became immensely popular ; was copied into various 
tongues, and was published into books of oratory for the instruction of 
youth. In 1797, Luther Martin, a very able Maryland lawyer, and a 
son-in-law of Michael Cresap, addressed a long letter to a public de- 
claimer — who had been regularly reciting this alleged speech of Logan — . 
in which he asserted, in effect, that the whole letter was an entire fic- 
tion ; that neither it nor anything like it had been spoken, written or 
delivered by Logan; that its sole author was Jefferson himself; that the 



Logan, the Famed Mingo Chief. 171 

charge contained in the speech was a vile calumny, and that in support 
of these assertions he was ready to enter the lists with Jefferson. 

Jefferson, finding his veracity and integrity thus openly and boldly 
impeached, addressed letters to various persons with the purpose of es- 
tablishing the genuineness of the alleged speech of Logan. He as- 
serted, however, that he first heard of the speech in the circle of Lord 
Dunmore, and the officers who had been at Camp Charlotte with him ; 
that it had already then been long current and published ; that for over 
twenty years, it had passed uncontradicted, and that if it were not true, 
he, as well as multitudes of others, were innocently deceived, and that 
as for doing an injury to Captain Cresap, he was entirely guiltless, hav- 
no knowledge of him nor any desire to do him any injustice. 

We need not go into the details of this long controversy, which ex- 
cited a great deal of noise and feeling at the time, and which have been 
quoted at length by many historians. The information which Jeffer- 
son elicited from those in a position to be more fully acquainted with 
the matter, was exceedingly full and precise, and we think most clearly 
established the following facts : that a speech called Logan's was un- 
doubtedly delivered to Lord Dunmore in '74, at Camp Charlotte, near 
old Chillicothe ; that Mr. Jefferson was honest in the whole matter, and 
fully believed that Logan had written or delivered the speech which he 
published as his ; that Captain Cresap, and not Colonel Cresap, as he 
is styled in the speech, was concerned in the wanton killing of Indians 
about that time, but that said Cresap was in no manner concerned, as 
the speech makes Logan say, in the massacre at Yellow Creek, where 
Logan's relatives were slaughtered. 

Colonel Ebenezer Zane, the founder of Wheeling and a gentleman 
of indisputable veracity, stated that he knew positively, and could 
abundantly prove, that Cresap was engaged in the attack on two par- 
ties of Indians below Wheeling, just before the massacre at the mouth 
of Yellow Creek, but that at that last massacre Cresap was not present, 
neither had he, Zane, any doubt but that these three attacks were the 
cause of Dunmore's war which immediately followed. James 
Chambers, who lived near Baker's house, opposite Yellow Creek, and 
was perfectly cognizant of all the facts of the massacre, deposed that 
Captain Cresap was not there that day ; that Cresap's party had con- 
fessed in his presence that they had attacked Indians just previous, 
friends and relatives of Logan, and that the woman killed at Baker's 
was Logan's sister. Judge James testified that in '74 he lived near Fort 
Henry, and knew that there was a war club with a note attached, left 
at the house of a settler, whose family were cut off by Logan's 
party, of which the following is a copy : " Captain Cresap — What did 



172 Our Western Border. 

you kill my people on Yellow Creek for ? The white people killed my 
kin at Conestoga a great while ago, and I thought nothing of that. 
But you killed my kin again on Yellow Creek, and took my cousin 
prisoner. Then I thought I must kill, too, and I have been three times 
to war since, but the Indians are not angry — only myself. Captain 
John Logan. July 21st, 1774." 

Confirmatory of the above, we have the testimony of Mr. Robinson, 
the person whom we have already mentioned as having been captured 
by Logan in person and afterwards saved by him from the tor- 
ture, who testifies that Logan always treated him with exceeding 
kindness and conversed frequently with him, always charging Captain 
Cresap with the murder of his family ; that on July 21st (the very date 
of the paper given above) Logan brought him, Robinson, a piece of 
paper and told him he must write a letter for him, which he meant to 
carry and leave in some house where he should kill somebody : that he 
made ink with gunpowder, and that he, Robinson, then wrote the let- 
ter by his direction, addressing Captain Cresap in it, and that the pur- 
port of it was to ask why he had killed his people, &c, and signed it 
with Logan's name, which letter Logan took and set out again for war, 
and that he understood that among the Indians killed at Yellow Creek 
was a sister of Logan, enceinte, whom the whites mutilated and stuck on 
a pole : that he, Robinson, was released in November, but while he re- 
mained, his Indian relatives by adoption were exceedingly indulgent to 
him, never allowing him to do any work. 

We next have a very important and highly interesting letter from 
General Gibson, who deposed that he was with Dunmore at Camp 
Charlotte : that at the request of the Indians that Dunmore should send 
some one to their town who could understand their language, he, Gib- 
son, was so dispatched : that on his arrival at the town, Logan came to 
where deponent was sitting with Cornstalk and other chiefs and asked 
him to walk out with him : that they then went together into a copse 
of woods, where they sat down, when Logan, after shedding abundance 
of tears, delivered to him the speech nearly as related by Jefferson. 
Gibson further deposed that he then told Logan that it was not Colonel 
Cresap who had murdered his relatives, and that although his son, Cap- 
tain Michael Cresap, was with the party who killed a Shawnee chief 
and other Indians, yet he was not present when his relatives were 
killed opposite the mouth of Yellow Creek. 

To our mind the evidence presented is entirely conclusive, and if the 
speech generally accredited to Logan is a fabrication at all, it is the 
fabrication of Gibson and not of Jefferson. We will only add a few 
facts relating to the life and death of a chief who has been embalmed 






Logan, the Famed Mingo Chief. 173 

in history with so much romantic interest attached to his memory. 
He was the second son of Shikellimus, a celebrated chief of the 
Cayuga nation, who lived at Shamokin, or Conestoga, Pa., and who 
was a zealous and faithful friend of Christianity and the English. His 
son was called Logan after the benevolent James Logan, of Pennsyl- 
vania, with whom Shikellimus was long on intimate terms. Exactly 
when Logan emigrated west is not known, nor indeed is much of his life 
while in Pennsylvania. It is certain, however, that he always had the 
reputation of being a just, noble and friendly Indian. 

Judge Brown, of Mifflin county, asserts that he was the first settler 
in the Kisacoquillas valley, Pa., and that when a young man he and 
three others had wandered out one day in search of springs. The party 
started after a bear and became separated. Brown was looking about 
for the bear's tracks when all at once he came upon what is now called 
the Big Spring, and, setting his rifle against a bush, he ran down to get 
a drink from its pure, sparkling waters. Upon putting his head down, 
he saw reflected in the water, on the opposite side, the shadow of a tall 
Indian : he sprang to his rifle, when the savage gave a yell, whether 
for peace or war the young hunter could not exactly make out, but 
upon Brown seizing his rifle and facing the stranger, the savage knocked 
up the pan of his gun, threw out the priming, and extended his open 
palm in token of amity. After putting down the guns they both shook 
hands again. This was Logan, "the best specimen of humanity," 
writes Brown, " I ever met with, either white or red. He could speak 
a little English, and told me there was another white hunter a little 
way down the stream, and guided me to his camp." This proved to be 
Samuel Maclay, also searching for lands to settle on. The two young 
men thus made known to each other through Logan, were intimate 
friends ever after. 

A few days after they went to Logan's Spring, about six miles dis- 
tant, where was their Indian friend's camp, and Maclay and Logan soon 
became engaged in shooting at a mark for a dollar a shot. Logan lost 
four or five times and confessed himself beaten. When the two whites 
were about to leave, Logan went into his hut and brought out as many 
deer skins as he had lost dollars, but Maclay refused to take them, 
alleging that they had been his guests and did not come to rob him ; 
that the shooting was only a trial of skill and the bet merely nominal. 
Upon this Logan drew himself up with great dignity and said, " Me 
bet to make you shoot your best — me gentleman, and me take your 
dollar if me beat." Maclay, seeing that he would affront his sensitive 
friend, was obliged to take the skins, and so nice was Logan's sense of 
honor that he could not be prevailed on to take even a horn of powder 



174 Our Western Border. 

in return. Logan soon went to the Allegheny, and Brown never saw 
him again. 

Heckewelder, the Moravian missionary, was among the very earliest 
residents in the West, and asserts that Logan was introduced to him by 
an Tndian as the friend of the white people, and that he thought him an 
Indian of superior talents. He exclaimed against the whites for im- 
posing liquor on the Indians, but confessed his own fondness for it. 
Heckewelder was then living at the Moravian town on the Beaver, and 
Logan was living at the mouth of that stream. The next year, when 
the Moravians were passing down the Beaver, on their way to the Mus- 
kingum, Heckewelder called at Logan's settlement, and was received with 
every possible civility. Indian reports of Logan, after the murder of 
his relatives in '74, state that during Dunmore's war, he took all the 
revenge he could, and was loth to lay down the hatchet. His expres- 
sions denoted a deep melancholy. Life, he said, had become a torment 
to him. He knew no more what pleasure was ; thought it would have 
been better had he never been born. Report further states that he be- 
came delirious, declared he would kill himself, went to Detroit, drank 
very freely, and did not seem to care what became of him. In this 
condition he left Detroit, and on his way between that place and Miami 
was murdered. Heckewelder continues that when he was on his way to 
Detroit in '81, he was shown the spot where his death occurred. Zeis- 
berger, a far-famed and entirely credible missionary among the Dela- 
wares, stated that he knew Logan from a boy ; that he was a man of 
talents, judgment and quick apprehension, and doubted not in the least 
that Logan sent to Dunmore the speech that has become of such world- 
wide celebrity. 

When Simon Kenton was being carried prisoner to Sandusky, and 
had been treated very harshly — a savage having shortly before cut 
through his shoulder with an axe — he arrived at Logan's tent, and says 
that the Mingo chief walked gravely up to where he stood and said: 
''Well, young man, these young men seem very mad at you." "Yes, 
sir, they certainly are," naturally replied poor Kenton. "Well, don't 
be disheartened. I am a great chief. You are to go to Sandusky; they 
speak of burning you there, but I will send two runners to-morrow to 
speak good for you." This he did, and until their return Kenton was 
kindly treated, being permitted to spend much of his time with Logan, 
who conversed freely and in the most friendly manner. In the evening 
Logan was closeted with the two runners, but did not visit Kenton till 
next morning, when he walked up to him, gave him a piece of bread, 
told him that he must be carried to Sandusky, and without another word 
turned upon his heel and left him. Kenton says that Logan's form was 



Logan, the Famed Mingo Chief. 175 

striking and manly, his countenance calm and noble, and he spoke 
English fluently and correctly. 

This was in '78. A Captain John Dunkin, according to a contribu- 
tion in the American Pioneer, was also taken prisoner the same year, 
and saw a good deal of Logan, who spoke both English and French, 
and told Dunkin that he, Logan, had two souls — one good, one bad; 
when the good soul was uppermost, he was kind and humane, but when 
the bad soul ruled he was savage and cruel. Dunkin said that he was 
killed by his own brother-in-law on returning from a council in Detroit. 
It is much to be regretted that a chief who was so uniformly friendly to 
the whites, and who, during his whole life, exhibited so many noble and 
interesting traits of character, should have been so wronged and abused 
by reckless, wanton borderers, as to turn all his sweetness into gall, and 
to render bitter and wretched the whole balance of his life. Had his 
family been spared, his life would probably have been widely different. 
Let us drop a tear over human passion, and let the name of Logan live 
imong those of the good and noble. 



176 Our Western Border. 



THE MASSACRE OF THE CONESTOGA INDIANS. 

Logan, in the letter attached to awar club, left at a borderer's house, used 
these significant words: " The white people killed my kin at Conestoga 
a great while ago, and I thought nothing of that, but you killed my 
kin again at Yellow Creek," &c. This allusion was to the massacre in 
1 763, over ten years previous, of a small settlement of friendly and in- 
offensive Iroquois at Conestoga, near Lancaster. The perpetrators of 
this cruel and cowardly slaughter were a company of fanatical back- 
woodsmen of the Scotch-Irish stock, called the Paxton Boys, who lived 
at Paxton, Derry and Donegal, old settlements near Harrisburg. These 
rude and hardy borderers, consisting of scouts, rangers, hunters, farm- 
ers and traders, had suffered enormously for years by Indian forays and 
scalpings and were goaded almost to desperation at their loss of rela- 
tives, property and stock. They looked upon the redmen as so many 
dogs, and, many of them being religious zealots, found abundant war- 
rant in Scripture for treating the Indians like the Canaanites of old, to 
1 ' smite them and utterly destroy them : to make no covenant with 
them nor show mercy unto them." 

These hot-headed and tempestuous fanatics were about as much exas- 
perated at the Quakers and the Provincial Legislature as they were 
against the savages themselves. They complained, and with much show 
of justice, that while they on the harassed and smitten border, were 
scourged and peeled, the Legislature and the Quakers sat at their ease, 
perfectly indifferent, wasting the precious days in factious wrangling 
and more careful of the copper-colored pagans than they were of them. 
It is difficult for us in these times, and only reading of the devastating 
outrages of savages as a matter of remote interest, to understand the 
intense bitterness and implacable, unquenchable hatred that many of 
the frontiermen had against the redmen, whom they deemed the authors 
of all their woes and the barriers to their success as land-getters. The 
misery of the matter was that with many this hate was blind and indis- 
criminate. They placed all Indians in the same category, only fit to 
be tracked and hunted like wild beasts and utterly swept off the face of 
the earth. 

This little band of lounging, broom-selling Conestogas were unfor- 
tunate enough to incur the suspicion of the Paxton Boys and were 
charged, if not with secretly indulging in the border murders and rob- 



Massacre of the Conestoga Indians. 177 

beries, at least with stealthily abetting them and sneakingly conveying 
information to the actual depredators. The Paxton Boys had formed 
themselves into a body of rangers for the protection of the frontier, 
under the auspices of their pastor, the Rev. Colonel Elder, who went 
about with cocked hat and rifle slung on shoulder — and under the lead- 
ership of Captain Lazarus Stewart and Matthew Smith, daring and 
reckless partisan Captains of the day. Smith heard through some wan- 
dering scouts that an Indian, who was known to have committed some 
late atrocities, had been traced to the Conestoga settlement. This was 
enough to fire his excitable heart, and hastily collecting a few of his 
" boys," of like mind with himself, they reached the peaceable Indian 
hamlet. Here Smith dismounted, and crawling forward, rifle in hand, 
to reconnoitre, saw, or fancied he saw, a number of armed warriors in 
the cabins. 

The party being too weak for an attack, returned to Paxton. Run- 
ners were sent out, and the very next day a body of fifty-seven mounted 
men, bloodily resolute on extirpating the Conestogas, set out, arriving 
at their destination by daybreak. Separating into small squads, they 
stealthily surrounded the humble cabins. An Indian, alarmed at the 
strange sounds without, issued from one of the huts and came in their 
direction. " He is the very one that killed my mother !" asserted one 
with an oath, and drawing sight he was ruthlessly shot down. This was 
signal enough with men only too anxious to commence the slaughter. 
With an appalling shout they now rushed forward out of the night ; 
burst into the peaceful cabins; shot, stabbed, tomahawked and scalped 
ail they could find therein to the number of fourteen men, women and 
children, and then, seizing on whatever booty offered, they set fire to 
the hamlet. The rest of the hapless community were scattered about 
the neighborhood. 

On the return of these night-prowlers from their unholy mission, they 
were met by Thomas Wright, who testified afterwards that, struck by 
their disordered appearance, and seeing a bloody tomahawk at each sad- 
dle bow, he asked where they had been and what doing, and on being 
told, they, seeing the horror depicted on his countenance, demanded of 
him if he believed in the Bible, and if the Scriptures did not command 
that the heathen should be destroyed. The devil could always quote 
Scripture for his purpose, and strangely believing or affecting to believe 
that they had been doing good service, these bloody miscreants quietly 
dispersed to their homes. 

A prodigious excitement was caused by these lawless and execrable 
proceedings. The community was divided in opinion, but the great 
majority being of those who had personally suffered from savage bar- 
12 



178 Our Western Border. 

barities, either upheld or excused the massacre. The affrighted and 
horror-stricken remnant of the Conestogas knew not what to do or 
where to turn to escape the fury of their rancorous foes, but at length 
were advised to appeal to the sheriff of the county for protection, and 
were conducted amid growing excitement to Lancaster and lodged in 
the stone county jail, so strong that it was thought to afford ample pro- 
tection. 

The news of this flagrant outrage spread like wild-fire. The Gover- 
nor issued a proclamation denouncing the inhuman act and offering a 
reward for the perpetrators. But the blood of the Paxton Boys was 
now inflamed. Hearing that an Indian, charged with shedding the 
blood of one of their number, was among these jail refugees, a party of 
over fifty assembled secretly, and boldly marched off towards Lancaster. 
It is said that the design of the leader, Lazarus Stewart, was only to de- 
mand this one man and to put him singly to death in case he were 
found guilty of murder. But unfortunately human passion once thor- 
oughly aroused cannot be so easily allayed. It gets beyond control and 
resembles the tiger's fierceness upon the taste of blood. The fighting 
parson, Elder, used all his influence to divert them from their unlawful 
design. He overtook them on horseback, plead, remonstrated and 
threatened, but all to no purpose. He then, as a last resort, reined up 
his horse in front so as to block up the narrow path and commanded 
them to disperse. Upon this, Matthew Smith, pointing his rifle at his 
pastor's heart, ordered him to make room or he would fire. A passage 
was thus made and the determined band soon clattered into the streets 
of Lancaster ; turned their panting horses into a tavern yard ; hurried 
to the jail in a body ; burst open the door and rushed in with horrid 
yells and armed to the teeth with rifle, knife and tomahawk. 

The poor Indians to the number of near twenty were huddled to- 
gether in the jail yard. They heard with dismay the furious clamor and 
saw with horror the inbursting mob of cruel and yelling persecutors. It 
was said, on the testimony, that several of them snatched up billets 
of wood in self-defence. Whether this may have changed the purpose 
of the invaders will never be known, but certain it is that they were 
now ferociously assaulted, trampled over, slashed with knives and tom- 
ahawks, and shot with rifles, and so close, too, that heads were blown 
to pieces and brains scattered about over the walls and ground. While 
this was going on, the magistrates and chief citizens were in church at- 
tending the Christmas service. The door was suddenly thrown open 
and the horror-stricken assemblage could hear the broken exclamations 
of " Murder ! — the jail ! — the Paxton Boys ! — the Indians !" 

It was enough to curdle the blood of all there. Before any, how- 



Massacre of the Conestoga Indians. 179 

ever, could reach the jail, the bloody deed had been finished, and the 
murderers were seen galloping in a body out of the town. Franklin, 
in his account of the massacre, asserts that when the wretched victims 
discovered the horrible purpose of the rioters, "they divided into their 
little families, the children clinging to their parents ; they fell on their 
knees, protested their innocence, declared love to the English, asserting 
that, in their whole lives, they had never done them injury, and in this 
posture they all received the hatchet/' This picture may be somewhat 
overdrawn, but certain it is that all who witnessed the shocking specta- 
cle united in declaring that the poor wretches met their fate with that 
unflinching stoicism which characterizes their race. A company of 
Highland soldiers on their way from Fort Pitt to Philadelphia, were en- 
camped at the time in or near the town. It is said that they refused to 
interfere, but this is not very probable, since the whole dread tragedy, 
so carefully had it been concocted and so silently and swiftly executed, 
only occupied about a quarter of an hour. 

The people now crowded into the jail yard to gaze stupidly upon the 
ghastly, pitiable spectacle. That it was a revolting sight the following 
extract of a letter addressed to Heckewelder, the missionary, by a re- 
spectable and intelligent citizen of the place, fully attests. We quote: 
'•From fifteen to twenty Indians were placed there for protection. The 
first notice I had of this affair was while at my father's store, near the 
court house. I saw a number of people running down street towards 
the gaol, which enticed me and other lads to follow. At about sixty 
yards from the jail we met from twenty-five to thirty men, well mounted 
on horses, and armed with rifles, tomahawks and scalping-knives, fully 
equipped for murder. I ran into the prison yard, and there, Oh, what 
a horrid sight presented itself to my view ! Near the back door of the 
prison lay an old Indian and his squaw, particularly well known and 
esteemed by the people of the town on account of their placid and 
friendly conduct. His name was Will Sock. Across him and his 
squaw lay two children of about the age of three years, whose heads 
were split with the tomahawk and their scalps all taken off. Towards 
the middle of the jail yard lay a stout Indian shot in the breast. His 
legs were chopped with the tomahawk, his hands cut off, and finally a 
rifle-ball discharged in his mouth, so that his head was blown to atoms, 
and the brains were splashed against and were yet hanging to the wall 
for three or four feet around. This man's hands and feet had also been 
chopped off with a tomahawk. In this manner lay the whole of them — 
men, women and children, spread about the prison yard — shot, scalped, 
hacked, cut to pieces." 

But this was not to be the end. A dreadful ferment was created all 



180 Our Western Border. 

along the border by this atrocious massacre. The people of the fron- 
tier knew that many of the men engaged in the deed were not brutal 
ruffians, but were among the best and most substantial residents, who 
had long and effectively been employed, too, as rangers in protecting 
the whole border. They knew, also, how much that border had suffered 
from savage atrocities, and while they heartily condemned the crime, 
they inclined to excuse the perpetrators of it. But in Philadelphia it 
was widely different. They there looked upon the massacre in some 
such light as we would now regard it. They — Quakers especially — as- 
sailed not only the murderers, but the whole Presbyterian sect with a 
perfect tempest of reproach and abuse. In obedience to public cla- 
mor, large rewards were offered for the arrest of the criminals, but 
these shrank not from the trial, but boldly proclaimed the necessity of 
their act, and defended it by argument and Scripture. So great was 
the excitement along the frontier that to arrest the ringleaders of the 
murderous band would have been almost impossible, or, at least, would 
have required the assistance of a large military- force. 

The excitement, instead of decreasing by time, daily augmented, but 
not altogether from this one cause. The backwoods people had always 
suspected the Moravian or Christianized Indians of complicity in the 
attacks of the heathen Indians, and several attempts had been made to 
assault and drive them out of their country. So dangerous became 
their position that at last, though some time before the proceedings just 
narrated, the Quaker assembly was compelled to disarm and then re- 
move these converted Indians to Philadelphia for safety. Much against 
their will, they had, in the midst of Winter, to prepare for migration. 
Their total number was one hundred and forty. It was in November 
when the forlorn procession — the aged, the young, the sick and the 
blind borne in wagons, while the rest went on foot — commenced its 
weary journey. At every village and hamlet they were rudely greeted 
with curses and threats. In passing through Germantown they were 
insulted by an infuriate mob, but, meek and gentle, the jaded pilgrims 
answered not, but steadily kept moving on, arriving at the Philadel- 
phia barracks in safety. 

Here the soldiers quartered there, obstinately refused them admis- 
sion, and the shrinking, cowering fugitives were compelled to stand in 
the street for five hours, constantly exposed to a hooting, yelling and 
cursing rabble, who threatened to kill them outright. The soldiers still 
persisting in their contumacy, the deplorable procession again took up 
its dreary march, followed by an angry and tumultuous mob of many 
thousands and proceeded some six miles further to Province Island, and 
were there lodged in some waste buildings. Here they held their regu- 



Massacre of the Conestoga Indians. 181 

lar religious meetings and remained peaceably until the massacre of the 
Conestogas, already related, put an entirely different complexion on 
matters. Those engaged in that successful piece of butchery, were 
soon heard to boast that they would finish this Indian business at Phila- 
delphia The idea, strange as it may seem, soon grew rapidly into 
favor. The disgraceful conduct of the Quakers — they alleged — in 
maintaining, at public expense, a lot of savages all through the Winter, 
who in Spring would be found scalping and butchering upon the border, 
was constantly rung upon with all the changes. 

Meetings were now held, • inflammatory harangues delivered, false 
and absurd reports were industriously circulated, and soon these reck- 
less and hot-headed borderers, finding their sentiments were re-echoed 
from a noisy and lawless party in Philadelphia itself, began to clamor 
to be led on to that city. Once before they had sent thither a wagon load 
of the scalped and mutilated bodies of their neighbors to impress the 
Quakers with a realizing sense of how they on the frontier were treated 
by their special pets, the Indians. Now they resolved to go themselves, 
armed cap-a-pie, and to demand protection. This was, indeed, no 
empty threat, for a force estimated at from five to fifteen hundred men 
mustered in January, under their most popular leaders, and actually 
took up the march to Philadelphia. 

The ostensible object of this audacious excursion was the destruction 
of the Moravian Indians; what political designs against the Quakers 
lay back of this have never been divulged. Their numbers gathered 
strength at every mile, and the prodigious excitement which the thick- 
crowding reports of this singularly daring expedition engendered in 
Philadelphia may be faintly imagined. Terror and confusion were uni- 
versal, and the city was working like a hive of bees. Even the non- 
resisting Quakers were aroused to a sense of what was due from their 
manhood in this alarming exigency. The magistrates were pressingly 
urged to take immediate measures for repelling force by force. Eight 
pieces of heavy ordnance were drawn up to the barracks, where the 
alarmed Indians were now confined. The citizens, and even many of 
the young Quakers, took up arms and stationed themselves at these bar- 
racks, which they put in as good a condition of defence as possible. 

On the night of February the 5 th, the mob of borderers were an- 
nounced as approaching. Every preparation was made to receive 
them. The whole city was in an uproar. The bells were rung, the 
streets were illuminated, and the citizens, being suddenly awakened 
from sleep, were ordered to the town hall to receive their arms and am- 
munition. Two companies of volunteers repaired to the barracks, and 
four more cannon were mounted. These prompt and decided prepara- 



182 Our Western Border. 

tions caused the approaching mob to pause arid ponder. Some gentle- 
men were deputed to visit them and ask their cause of complaint. 
With great presumption and arrogance, they asserted there were several 
murderers among the Moravians, and insolently demanded that these 
should be delivered up to them. To pacify them, one of the ring- 
leaders was induced to enter the barracks and asked to point out the 
offenders. Each shrinking Indian was examined, but not one was 
found against whom any crime could be truthfully charged. The 
rioters, on hearing this, then asserted that the Quakers must have re- 
moved and secreted the criminal Indians. This was proved false, and 
the turbulent invaders were forced to relinquish their design and to take 
up the homeward march. 

The Indians now became objects of great curiosity, and were visited 
by thousands of all ranks and conditions. Their Sunday services were 
attended by crowds of respectful listeners, and the soldiers themselves 
were won to kindness by their meekness and sincerity. Yet still their 
condition was a very hard one. Accustomed to the free, roaming life 
of the woods, confinement bore disastrously upon them. The high- 
seasoned food disagreed with them, and as the Summer advanced, 
fevers and small-pox broke out among them, causing great loss and al- 
most despair. No less than fifty-six of them died during this long cap- 
tivity, while the remainder were not released until March, 1765, after 
the Indian war was well over. They now settled at a new place which 
they built up near Wyalusing Creek, and called Friedenshutten (Tents 
of Peace). They were now at peace, and at length, after all their 
severe trials and troubles, were, for a season, contented, happy and 
prosperous. 



Chapter IIL 



THE LIFE AND CUSTOMS OF THE WESTERN PIONEERS, 

Not with the bold array 
Of armies dread, came they 

Proud conquest on. 
Through a long warfare rude, 
With patient hardihood, 
By toil and strife and blood, 

The soil was won. — L. % Cist. 

We now arrive at a period in Western Border History which, if it 
have not for the reader so much of a general interest, has yet a more 
special fascination since it abounds in a series of remarkable personal 
adventures and captivities ; in fierce and obstinate individual conflicts, 
and in incidents of varied and thrilling interest. By the close of 
Dunmore's war, and at the outbreak of the Revolution, the tide of emi- 
gration had fairly set in for the West. It was relentless as fate — as 
irresistible as old ocean's onrolling waves. The restless, adventurous 
pioneer still pushed on and on ; penetrating deeper and deepe*4a r to the 
wilderness; ready to bid a stern defiance to all who opposed, and hold- 
ing on to the soil he had so valorously won, with a grim and unflinch- 
ing tenacity. Often rudely checked, they were never disheartened; 
sought out and harassed by a foe that neither pitied or slumbered, they 
still fought on and on. Ever environed by perils ; subjected to every 
variety of exposure and privation ; frequently decimated by savage 
marauds and forays, and having those most dear to their hearts killed, 
scalped or carried into captivity, yet they never turned back upon foe, 
but met him or hunted him with resolute heart, unquailing eye, and 
with a cool, reckless courage that was almost sublime. 

Thus the borderers grew stronger, bolder and more stubborn as the 
years rolled on. The ringing sounds of their keen axes could be ever 
heard in new clearings, and within the deepest core of the wilderness ; 
strange forests were notched or girdled in each successive year, serving 
to mark additional claims ; the jealous denizens of the woods would 
come suddenly upon roving surveying parties with pole and chain, and 



184 Our Western Border. 

goaded to madness at the sight, would attack them with vindictive bit- 
terness. An undying and implacable hatred grew up between the two 
races, as fierce and bitter as that which formerly existed between Moor 
and Spaniard, and engendered, too, by much the same cause. One 
sight of each other was the signal for a grapple and a deadly struggle. 
With kindled eye and expanded nostril, they swiftly rushed to the con- 
flict, inspired by _, , . , . c , 

r J l hat stern joy which warriors feel 

In meeting foeraen worthy of their steel. 

Now it was that such daring and indomitable characters as Boone, 
Kenton, Harrod, Brady, Logan, Sevier, the Poes, the Zanes, the Mc- 
Collochs and the Wetzells, first came to the fore-front— the most promi- 
nent types of their class ; to whom fear was utterly unknown ; who 
all had a certain free dash of the wilderness in their ways and wander- 
ings ; whose very buckskin garments had the odor of the forest mould or 
herbage about them, and who soon learned to surpass even their swarthy 
foes themselves in woodcraft, in trailing, in artful strategy and in hand- 
to-hand combat. 

For several years, parts of the Monongahela valley, the region about 
Fort Pitt and the West Virginia valleys had been sparsely settled, and the 
Zanes had formed a flourishing colony at Fort Henry, (now Wheeling.) 
Most of the emigrants came by way of Redstone, (now Brownsville,) on 
the Monongahela, and since, by Dunmore's treaty at Camp Charlotte a 
peace or rather a temporary truce was patched up, the settlers came out 
in swarms, extending as far west as Kentucky. It was the true, genuine 
spirit of the Anglo-Saxon which spurned all restraint and subdued all 
things to its will, that impelled them, and they clustered about the var- 
ious outposts of civilization, prepared to ' { do or die "-—to wrest a gen- 
erous living from the teeming soil, or leave their bones within its 
bosom. Those who located along the Ohio differed from those who se- 
lected lands in the interior. They were more ambitious of pushing 
themselves forward and many of them, anticipating the time when the 
Indian territory across the Ohio would be thrown open to settlement, 
crossed to explore the country and to pick out for themselves the 
choice spots. 

Around these they would generally mark trees or otherwise define 
boundaries by which they could be afterwards identified. There were, 
also, at every frontier post, persons who were attracted thither by their 
love of hunting and by a genuine attachment for the wild, unshackled 
scenes of a ranger's life. Existence in the house or in forts was inex- 
pressibly irksome to them. They only felt perfectly free and joyous 
when roaming the unbounded forests, couched on their beds of leaves 
or skins at night, and utterly heedless of all restraint or trammel. 



Life and Customs of the Western Pioneers. 185 

This constant practice in the " mimicry of war" soon begot a nerve 
and skill which enabled them to cope successfully with the wily savage. 
They were perfectly at home in the woods by day or by night, and 
could steer their way to any part of the compass with as much unerring 
certainty as the redskins themselves. It was, notwithstanding the ex- 
cessive hazard in time of war, a free and happy life, and it is no marvel 
that so many of the frontier men and youth became completely 
enamored of this Gypsey abandon of the forest, passing most of their 
time in vagabondizing hither and yon, " wandering at their own sweet 
will." When gathered about their fire at night, the stars glimmering 
dimly through the roof above them, they could right heartily join in 
the " Song of the Pioneer : " 

The hunt, the shot, the glorious chase ; 

The captured elk or deer ; 
The camp, the big, bright fire, and then 

The rich and wholesome cheer ; 
The sweet, sound sleep at dead of night 

By the camp fire blazing high, 
Unbroken by the wolfs long howl 

Or the panther springing by. 

As one of their own number truthfully writes: "Various as may 
have been their objects in emigrating, no sooner had they come to- 
gether than there existed in each settlement a perfect unison of feeling. 
Similitude of situation and commonality of danger, operating as a magic 
charm, stifled in their birth all those little bickerings which are so apt 
to disturb the quiet of 'society.' Ambition of preferment and the 
pride of place, too often but hindrances to social intercourse, were un- 
known among them. Equality of condition rendered them strangers 
alike to the baneful distinctions created by wealth as to other adven- 
titious circumstances. A sense of mutual dependence for their common 
security locked them in amity ; and, conducting their several purposes 
in harmonious concert, together they toiled and together suffered, 

"In their intercourse with others they were kind, beneficent and disin- 
terested ; extending to ail the most generous hospitality which their cir- 
cumstances could afford. That selfishness which prompts to liberality 
for the sake of remuneration, and proffers the civilities of life with an 
eye to individual interest, was unknown to them. They were kind for 
kindness' sake, and sought no other recompense than the never-failing 
concomitant of good deeds — the reward of an approving conscience, 
Such were the early pioneers of the West, and we might even now 
profit from the contemplation of their humble virtues, hospitable homes, 
and spirits patient, noble, proud and free — their self-respect grafted on 
innocent thoughts ; their days of health and nights of sleep — their toils 



186 Our Western Border. 

by danger dignified, yet guiltless — their hopes of cheerful old age and 
a quiet grave, with cross and garland over its green turf, and their grand- 
children's love for an epitaph." 

The great object with most who moved West was, of course, to better 
their condition,, and this more especially a f ter the Revolution. Land was 
the great desideratum^ and it could be obtained literally "for the taking 
up." The methods in which this was done are best described by Rev. 
Joseph Doddridge, D. D., whose father moved into West Virginia in 
1 773, just before the outbreak of Dunmore's, or, as it is sometimes 
called, Cresap's war. Brought up in a rude wilderness cabin, the Doc- 
tor spent his whole life amid the dangers and vicissitudes which made 
up the backwoodsman's life, and has written very graphically of the 
sports, customs, struggles, privations and vicissitudes which went to 
make up the pioneer's average life. His earliest recollections were of 
the humble log cabin, the protecting fort, the encircling woods, the ex- 
citements of the chase, and the perils of the redskin scalp-hunters. His 
infant slumbers were disturbed by the yell of the Indian, and the scene 
of his boyish sports was a dense and sombre forest, in which danger lay 
ambushed in so many shapes that even the lads of the border grew cun- 
ning in eluding or self-possessed in meeting it. We shall hereafter 
quote freely and liberally from his famous "Notes," now long out of 
print, 



The Hardships of Settlers. 187 



THE TITLE TO LANDS—THE HARDSHIPS OF SETTLERS. 

"Our early land laws allowed four hundred acres and no more to a set- 
tlement right. Many of our first settlers seemed to regard this as enough 
for one family, and believed that any attempt to get more would be sin- 
ful, although they might have evaded the law, which allowed of but one 
settlement right to any one individual, by taking out the title papers in 
the names of others, to be afterwards transferred to them as if by pur 
chase. Some few, indeed, pursued this practice, but it was generally 
held in detestation. 

The division lines between those whose lands adjoined were generally 
made in an amicable manner before any survey was made by the parties 
concerned. In doing this they were guided mainly by the tops of ridges 
and water courses. Hence, the greater number of farms in the west- 
ern parts of Pennsylvania and Virginia bore a striking resemblance to 
an amphitheatre. The buildings occupied a low situation, and the tops 
of the surrounding hills were the boundaries of the tract to* which the 
family mansion belonged. Our forefathers were fond of farms of this 
description, because, as they said, 'Everything comes to the house 
down hill.'. In the hilly parts of the State of Ohio, the. land having 
been laid out by straight parallel lines, the farms present a different as- 
pect. There the buildings frequently occupy the tops of the hills. 

Our people had become so accustomed to the mode of ' getting land 
for taking it up,' that for a long time it was believed that the west side 
of the Ohio would ultimately be disposed of in the same way. Hence, 
almost the whole region between the Ohio and Muskingum was parceled 
out in 'tomahawk improvements,' but those so claiming were not satis- 
fied with a single four hundred acre tract. Many owned a great num- 
ber of tracts of the best land, and thus, in imagination, were as ' wealthy 
as a South Sea dream.' Some oi these land jobbers did not content 
themselves with marking trees at the usual height with the initials of 
their names, but climbed up the large beeches and cut the letters in their 
retentive bark, from twenty to forty feet from the ground. To enable 
them to identify these trees at a future period, they made marks on the 
trees around as references. At an early period of our settlements there 
was an inferior kind of land title, denominated a 'tomahawk right.' 
This was made by deadening a few trees near a spring, and marking on 
one or more of them the initials of the name of the person by whom 



188 Our Western Border. 

the improvement was made. Rights acquired in this way were fre- 
quently bought and sold. 

The settlement of a new country in the immediate neighborhood of 
an old one is not attended with much difficulty, because supplies can 
be readily obtained from the latter ; but the settlement of a country 
more remote is quite a different thing, because at the outset, food, 
raiment and the implements of husbandry are only obtained in small 
supplies and with great difficulty. The task of making new establish- 
ments in a remote wilderness, in time of profound peace, is sufficiently 
difficult, but when, in addition to all the unavoidable hardships attend- 
ing on this business, those resulting from an extensive and furious war- 
fare with savages are superadded, toil, privations and sufferings are then 
carried to the full extent of the capacity of men to endure them. 

Such was the wretched condition of our forefathers in making their 
settlements. To all these other difficulties and privations, the Indian 
war was a weighty addition. This destructive warfare they were com- 
pelled to sustain almost single-handed, because the Revolutionary con- 
test gave full employment for the military strength and resources on the 
east side of the mountains. 



Amusing Experiences of Young Doddridge — Coffee and Game. 

" Some of the early settlers took the precaution to come over the 
mountains in the Spring, leaving their families behind, to raise crops of 
corn, and then return and bring them out in the Fall. This was the 
better way. Others, especially those whose families were small, brought 
chem with them in the Spring. My father took the latter course. His 
family was but small, and he brought them all with him. The Indian 
meal which he transported over the mountains was expended six weeks 
too soon, so that for that length of time we had to live without bread. 
The lean venison and the breast of wild turkeys, we were taught to 
call bread. The flesh of the bear was denominated meat, This artifice 
did not succeed very well ; after living in this way for some time, we 
became sickly ; the stomach seemed to be always empty and tormented 
with a sense of hunger. I remember how narrowly the children 
watched the growth of the potato tops, pumpkin and squash vines, 
hoping from day to day to get something to answer in the place of 
bread. How delicious was the taste of the young potatoes when we got 
them ! What a jubilee when we were permitted to pull the young 
corn for roasting-ears ! Still more so, when it had acquired sufficient 
hardness to be made into johnny-cakes, by the aid of a tin grater. We 



Amusing Experiences of Young Doddridge. 189 

then became healthy, vigorous, and contented with our situation, poor 
as it was. 

The furniture of the table, for several years after the settlement of 
the country, consisted of a few pewter dishes, plates and spoons, but 
mostly of wooden bowls, trenchers and noggins. If these last were 
scarce, gourds and hard-shelled squashes made up the deficiency. The 
iron pots, knives and forks, were brought from the east side of the 
mountains, along with salt and iron, on pack-horses. These articles of 
furniture corresponded very well with the articles of diet. ' Hog and 
hominy ' was a dish of proverbial celebrity. Johnny-cake or < pone ' 
was at the outset of the settlements the only form of bread in use for 
breakfast and dinner ; at supper, milk and mush was the standard dish* 
When milk was scarce, hominy supplied its place, and mush was fre- 
quently eaten with sweetened water, molasses, bear's oil, or the gravy 
of fried meat. 

In our display of furniture, delf, china and silver were unknown. 
The introduction of delf-ware was considered by many of the back- 
woods people as a wasteful innovation. It was too easily broken, and 
the plates dulled their scalping and clasp knives. Tea and coffee, in 
the phrase of the day, 'did not stick to the ribs.' The idea then preva- 
lent was that they were only designed for people of quality, who did 
not labor, or for the rich. A genuine backwoodsman would have 
thought himself disgraced by showing a fondness for such ' slops.' 

I well recollect the first time I ever saw a teacup and saucer, and 
tasted coffee. My mother died when I was about six or seven years of 
age. My father then sent me to Maryland, with a brother of my grand- 
father, Mr. Alexander Wells, to go to school. At Colonel Brown's, in 
the mountains, at Stony Creek glades, I for the first time saw tame 
geese, and by bantering a pet gander, I got a severe biting by his bill, 
and a beating by his wings. I wondered very much that birds so large 
and strong, should be so much tamer than the wild turkey ; at this place, 
however, ail was right, excepting the large birds which they called geese. 
The cabin and furniture were such as I had been accustomed to see in 
the backwoods, as my country was then called. 

At Bedford, everything was changed. The tavern at which my 
uncle put up, was a stone house, and to make the changes still more 
complete, it was plastered on the inside, both as to the walls and ceiling. 
On going into the dining-room, I was struck with astonishment at the 
appearance of the house. I had no idea that there was any house in 
the world that was not built of logs ; but here I looked round and could 
see no logs, and above I could see no joists ; whether such a thing had 
been made by the hands of man, or had grown so of itself, I could not 



190 Our Western Border. 

conjecture. I had not the courage to inquire anything about it. When 
supper came on, my confusion was ' worse confounded.' A little cup 
stood in a bigger one, with some brownish-looking stuff in it, which was 
neither milk, hominy, nor broth ; what to do with these little cups, and 
the little spoons belonging to them, I could not tell ; but I was afraid 
to ask anything concerning the use of them. 

I, therefore, watched attentively to see what the big folks would do 
with their little cups and spoons. I imitated them and found the taste 
of the coffee nauseous beyond anything I had ever tasted in my life. 
I continued to drink as the rest of the company did, but with tears 
streaming from my eyes ; but when it was to end, I was at a loss to 
know, as the little cups were filled immediately after being emptied. 
This circumstance distressed me very much, as I durst not say I had 
enough. Looking attentively at the grown persons, I saw one man turn 
his cup bottom upwards and put his little spoon across it. I observed 
that after this his cup was not filled again. I followed his example, and 
to my great satisfaction, the result as to my cup was the same. 

A neighbor of my father, some years after the settlement of the 
country, had collected a small drove of cattle for the Baltimore market. 
Amongst the hands employed to drive them, was one who had never 
seen any condition of society but that of the woodsmen. At one of 
their lodging-places in the mountain, the landlord and his hired man, 
in the course of the night, stole two of the bells belonging to the drove, 
and hid them in a piece of woods. 

The drove had not gone far in the morning before the bells were 
missed, and a detachment went back to recover them. The men were 
found reaping the field of the landlord. They were accused of the 
theft, but they denied the charge. The torture of 'sweating,' accord- 
ing to the custom of that time, that is, of suspension by the arms 
pinioned behind the backs, brought a confession. The bells were pro- 
cured and hung round the necks of the thieves. In this condition they 
were driven on foot before the detachment until they overtook the drove, 
which by this time had gone nine miles. A halt was called, and a jury 
selected to try the culprits. They were condemned to receive a certain 
number of lashes on the bare back, from the hand of each drover. The 
man above alluded to was the owner of one of the bells ; when it came 
to his turn to use the hickory, ' now,' says he to the thief, < you infernal 
scoundrel, I'll work your jacket nineteen to the dozen — only think what 
a rascally figure I should make in the streets of Baltimore without a bell 
on my horse !' 

The man was in earnest ; in a country where horses and cattle are 
pastured in the range, bells are necessary to enable the owners to find 



Hunting and Hunters of the Border. 191 

them ; to the traveler who encamps in the wilderness, they are indis 
pensable, and the individual described had probably never been placed 
in a situation in which they were not requisite. 

Hunting and Hunters of the Border — Life in the Woods. 

"Hunting was an important part of the employment of the early set- 
tlers. For some years after their emigration, the forest supplied them 
with the greater part of their subsistence ; some families were without 
bread for months at a time, and it often happened that the first meal of 
the day could not be prepared until the hunter returned with the sports 
of the chase. Fur and peltry were the circulating mediums of the 
country ; the hunter had nothing else to give in exchange for rifles, 
salt, lead and iron. Hunting, therefore, was the employment, rather 
than the sport, of the pioneers ; yet it was pursued with the alacrity and 
sense of enjoyment which attend an exciting and favorite amusement. 
Dangerous and fatiguing as are its vicissitudes, those who become ac- 
customed to the chase generally retain through life their fondness for 
the rifle. 

The class of hunters with whom I was acquainted, were those 
whose hunting ranges were on the western side of the river, and at the 
distance of eight or nine miles from it. Fall and Winter was the time 
for deer, and Winter and Spring for fur-skinned animals, which could 
be hunted in any month with an R in it. As soon as the leaves were 
pretty well down and the weather became rainy, accompanied with 
slight snows, these men, often acting the part of husbandmen, began to 
feel that they were also hunters, and grew restless and uneasy at home. 
Everything about them became disagreeable. The house was too warm; 
the feather bed too soft, and even the good wife was not thought, for 
the time being, an agreeable companion. The mind of the hunter was 
wholly occupied with the camp and the chase. 

I have often seen them get up early in the morning, at this season, 
walk hastily out and look anxiously to the woods and snuff the autum- 
nal winds with the highest rapture ; then return into the house and cast a 
quick and attentive look at the rifle, which was always suspended to a 
joist by a couple of buck-horns or wooden forks. The hunting dog, 
understanding the intentions of his master, would wag his tail, and by 
every blandishment in his power, express his readiness to accompany 
him to the woods. • A hunt usually occupied several days, and often 
extended to weeks ; the hunter living in a camp, hidden in some seclu- 
ded place, to which he retired every night, and where he kept his store 
of ammunition and other plunder. There were individuals who re- 



192 Our Western Border. 

mained for months together in the woods, and spent the greater part of 
their lives in these camps, which are thus described : 

A hunting-camp, or what was called a half-faced cabin, was of the 
following form : the back part of it was sometimes a large log ; at the 
distance of eight or ten feet from this, two stakes were set in the ground 
a few inches apart ; and at the distance of eight or ten feet from these, 
two more, to receive the ends of poles for the sides of the camp. The 
whole slope of the roof was from the front to the back. The covering 
was made of slabs, skins or blankets, or, if in the Spring of the year, 
the bark of the hickory or ash tree. The front was left entirely open. 
The fire was built directly before this opening. The cracks between 
the poles were filled with moss. Dry leaves served for a bed. It is 
thus that a couple of men, in a few hours, will construct for themselves 
a temporary, but tolerably comfortable defence against the inclemencies 
of the weather. 

The site for the camp was selected with all the sagacity of the 
woodsmen, so as to have it sheltered by the surrounding hills from every 
wind, but more especially from those of the north and south. These 
shelters were so artfully concealed, as to be seldom discovered except 
by accident. An uncle of mine, of the name of Samuel Teter, occu- 
cupied the same camp for several years in succession. It was situated 
on one of the southern branches of Cross Creek. Although I lived 
many years not more than fifteen miles from the place, it was not till 
within a few years ago, that I discovered its situation. It was shown 
me by a gentleman living in the neighborhood. Viewing the hills 
round about it, I soon discovered the sagacity of the hunter in the site 
of his camp. Not a wind could touch him j and unless by the report 
of his gun or the sound of his axe, it would have been mere accident if 
an Indian had discovered his concealment. 

Hunting was not a mere ramble in pursuit of game, in which there 
was nothing of skill and calculation ; on the contrary, the hunter, be- 
fore he set out in the morning, was informed by the state of weather in 
what situation he might reasonably expect to meet with his game; 
whether on the bottoms, or on the sides or tops of the hills. In stormy 
weather, the deer always seek the most sheltered places, and the leeward 
r;ides of hills. In rainy weather, when there is not much wind, they 
keep in the open woods, on the highest ground. In every situation, it 
was requisite for the hunter to ascertain the course of the wind, so as to 
get to leeward of the game. This he effected by putting his finger in 
his mouth and holding it there until it became warm, then holding it 
above his head; the side which first became cold, showed which way the 
wind blew. 



Weddings in the Olden Time. 193 

As it was requisite, too, for the hunter to know the cardinal points, 
he had only to observe the trees to ascertain them. The bark of an 
aged tree is thicker and much rougher on the north than on the south 
side. The same thing may be said of the moss. The whole business 
of the hunter consists in a series of stratagems. From morning till 
night he was on the alert to gain the wind of his game, and approach 
it without being discovered. . If he succeeded in killing a deer, he 
skinned it, and hung it up out of the reach of the wolves, and imme- 
diately resumed the chase till the close of the evening, when he bent 
his course towards his camp ; when he arrived there he kindled up his 
fire, and, together with his fellow-hunter, cooked his supper. The sup- 
per finished, the adventures of the day furnished the tales for the even- 
ing. The spike buck, the two and three-pronged buck, the doe and 
barren doe, figure through their anecdotes. 

After hunting awhile on the same ground, the hunters became ac- 
quainted with nearly all the gangs of deer within their range, so as to 
know each flock when they saw them. Often some old buck, by means 
of his superior sagacity and watchfulness, saved his little gang from the 
hunter's skill, by giving timely notice of his approach. The cunning 
of the hunter and of the old buck were staked against each other, and 
it frequently happened that at the conclusion of the hunting season, the 
old fellow was left the free, uninjured tenant of his forest ; but if his 
rival succeeded in bringing him down, the victory was followed by no 
small amount of boasting. Many of the hunters rested from their labors 
on the Sabbath day ; some from a motive of piety ; others said that 
whenever they hunted on Sunday they were sure to have bad luck for 
the remainder of the week." 

Weddings in the Olden Time — Strange Frolics and Customs. 

"For .a long time after the first settlement of a country, the inhabitants 
in general married young. There was no distinction of rank, and very 
little of fortune. On these accounts the first impression of love resulted 
in marriage, and a family establishment cost but a little labor and noth- 
ing else. A wedding engaged the attention of a whole neighborhood, 
and the frolic was anticipated by old and young with eager expectation. 
This is not to be wondered at when it is told that a wedding was almost 
the only gathering which was not accompanied with the labor of reap- 
ing, log-rolling, building a cabin, or planning some scout or campaign." 

Among other graphic sketches, the reverend historian gives the fol- 
lowing deeply interesting account of a wedding in the olden times: 

"In the morning of the wedding-day, the groom and his attendants 
13 



194 Our Western Border. 

assembled at the house of his father, for the purpose of reaching the 
mansion of his bride by noon, which was the usual time for celebrating 
the nuptials; which for certain must take place before dinner. Let the 
reader imagine an assemblage of people, without a store, tailor or man- 
tua-maker within a hundred miles, and an assemblage of horses, without 
a blacksmith or saddler within an equal distance. The gentlemen, dressed 
in shoepacks, moccasins, leather breeches, leggins, and linsey hunting 
shirts, all home made; the ladies, in linsey petticoats, and linsey or linen 
short gowns, coarse shoes and stockings, handkerchiefs, and buckskin 
gloves, if any. If there were any buckles, rings, buttons or ruffles, 
they were relics of old times — family pieces from parents or grand- 
parents. 

The horses were caparisoned with old saddles, old bridles or halters, 
and pack-saddles, with a bag or blanket thrown over them; a rope or 
string as often constituted the girth as a piece of leather. The march 
in double file was often interrupted by the narrowness and obstructions 
of our horse-paths, as they were called, for we had no roads; and these 
difficulties were often increased, sometimes by the good, and sometimes 
by the ill will of neighbors, by felling trees and tying grape-vines across 
the way. Sometimes an ambuscade was formed by the way-side, and 
an unexpected discharge of several guns took place, so as to cover the 
wedding company with smoke. Let the reader imagine the scene which 
followed; the sudden spring of the horses, the shrieks of the girls, and 
the chivalric bustle of their partners to save them from falling. Some- 
times, in spite of all that could be done to prevent it, some were thrown 
to the ground. If a wrist, an elbow, or an ankle, happened to be 
sprained, it was tied up with a handkerchief, and little more said or 
thought about it." 

The Run for the Bottle — The Jigs, Reels and Merry-Makings. 

Another ceremony commonly took place before the party reached 
the home of the bride. It was after the practice of making whiskey 
began, which was at an early period. When the party were about a 
mile from the place of their destination, two young men would single 
out to run for the bottle ; the worse the path — the more logs, brush and 
deep hollows the better, as these obstacles afforded an opportunity for 
the greater display of intrepidity and horsemanship. The English fox 
chase, in point of danger to riders and horses, is nothing to this race 
for the bottle. 

The start was announced by an Indian yell ; logs, brush, muddy hol- 
lows, hill and glen were speedily passed by the rival steeds. The bottle 



The Run for the Bottle. 195 

was always filled for the occasion, so that there was no use for judges, 
for the first who reached the door was presented with the prize. On 
returning in triumph he announced his victory over his rivals by a shrill 
whoop. At the head of the troop he gave the bottle, first to the groom 
and his attendants, and then to each pair in succession to the rear of the 
line, and then putting the bottle in the convenient and capacious bosom 
of his hunting shirt, he took his station in line. 

The ceremony of the marriage preceded the dinner, which was a 
substantial backwoods feast of beef, pork, fowls, and sometimes venison 
and bear meat roasted and boiled, with plenty of potatoes, cabbage, and 
other vegetables. During the dinner the greatest hilarity always pre- 
vailed, although the table might be a large slab of timber hewed out 
with a broad axe, supported by four sticks set in auger holes ; and the 
furniture, some old pewter dishes and plates, eked out with wooden 
bowls and trenchers. A few pewter spoons, much battered about the 
edges, were seen at some tables ; the rest were made of horn. If knives 
were scarce, the deficiency was made up by the scalping knives which 
every man carried in sheaths suspended to the belt of the hunting shirt. 
" After dinner the dancing commenced, and generally lasted till the 
next morning. The figures of the dances were three and four-handed 
reels and jigs. The commencement was always a square four, which 
was followed by what was called ' jigging it off:' that is, two of the four 
would single out for a jig, and be followed by the remaining couple. 
The jigs were often accompanied with what was called 'cutting out;' 
that is, when either of the parties became tired of the dance, on inti- 
mation, the place was supplied by some one of the company, without 
any interruption to the dance. In this way it was often continued till 
the musician was heartily tired of his situation. Towards the latter part 
of the night, if any of the company, through weariness, attempted to 
conceal themselves for the purpose of sleeping, they were hunted up, 
paraded on the floor, and the fiddler ordered to play ' Hang out till to^ 
morrow morning.' 

About nine or ten o'clock a deputation of the young ladies stole off 
the bride and put her to bed. In doing this it frequently happened that 
they had to ascend a ladder instead of stairs, leading from the dining 
and ball room to a loft, the floor of which was made of clap-boards 
lying loose. This ascent, one might think, would put the bride and her 
attendants to the blush ; but as the foot of the ladder was commonly 
behind the door, purposely opened for the occasion, and its rounds at 
the inner ends were well hung with hunting shirts, dresses, and other 
articles of clothing — the candles being on the opposite side of the house, 
the exit of the bride was noticed but by few. This done, a deputation 



196 Our Western Border. 

of young men, in like manner, stole off the groom and placed him 
snugly by the side of his bride, while the dance still continued; and if 
seats happened to be scarce, every young man was obliged to offer his lap as 
a seat for one of his girls. Late at night refreshment in the shape of 
' black Betty' — the bottle — was sent up the ladder, with sometimes sub- 
stantial accompaniments of bread, beef, pork and cabbage. The young 
couple were compelled to eat and drink of whatever was offered them. 
The feasting and dancing often lasted several days, at the end of which 
the whole company were so exhausted with loss of sleep, that many 
days' rest was requisite to fit them to return to their ordinary labors. 
Sometimes it happened that neighbors or relations not asked to the 
wedding, took offence, and revenged themselves by cutting off the 
manes, foretops and tails of horses belonging to the wedding com- 
pany." 

How the Couple were Settled — Feasting and House-Warming. 

The same writer thus describes the usual manner of settling the young 
couple in the world : — " A spot was selected on a piece of land of one 
of the parents. Shortly after the marriage, a day was appointed for 
building the cabin. The choppers, carpenters, &c, arranged all the 
day before. The clap-boards for the roof were split with a large frow, 
four feet long, and as wide as the timber would allow. They were used 
without planing or shaving. The puncheons for the floor were made 
by splitting trees eighteen inches in diameter, and hewing the faces of 
them with a broad-axe. They were half the length of the floor they 
were intended to make. 

The second day was allotted for the raising. In the morning all the 
neighbors assembled and selected four corner men, whose business it was 
to notch and place the logs. The rest of the company supplied them 
with material. By the time the cabin was a few rounds high, the 
sleepers and floor began to be laid. The door was made by sawing or 
cutting the logs in one side, so as to make an opening about three feet 
wide, which was secured by upright pieces of timber, through which 
holes were bored into the ends of the logs for the purpose of pinning 
them fast. A similar opening, but wider, was made in one end for a 
chimney. This was built of logs, and was large enough to admit of a 
back and jambs of stone. At the square, two end logs projected a foot 
or more to receive the bunting poles against which the ends of the first 
row of clap-boards for the roof were supported. 

The roof was formed by making the end logs shorter, until a single 
log formed the comb : on these parallel logs the clap-boards were 
placed, the ranges of them lapping some distance over those next below 



How the Couple were Settled. 197 

them, and kept in their places by logs placed at a proper distance upon 
them. The roof, and sometimes the floor, were finished on the same 
day of the raising. 

A third day was commonly spent by a few carpenters in leveling off 
the floor and making a clap-board door and a table, which latter was 
made of a split slab and supported by four round limbs set in auger 
holes. Some three-legged stools were made in the same manner. 
Some pins stuck in the logs at the back of the house supported some 
clap-boards, which served for shelves. A single fork, placed with its 
lower end in a hole in the floor and its upper end fastened to a Joist, 
served for a bedstead by placing a pole in the fork, with one end 
through a crack between the logs at the end of the wall. This front 
pole was crossed by a shorter one 'within the fork, with its outer end 
through another crack. From the front pole, through a crack between 
the logs of the end of the house, the boards were put on which formed 
the bottom of the bed. Sometimes other poles were pinned to the 
forks a little distance above these for the purpose of supporting the 
front and foot of the bed, while the walls were the support of its back 
and head. 

A few pegs around the walls for a display of the coats of the 
women and hunting shirts of the men, and two small forks or buck's 
horns protruding from a joist for the rifle and shot-pouch, completed 
the carpenter work. In the meantime the masons were also at work. 
With the heart-pieces of the clap-board timber, they made billets for 
chinking up the cracks between the logs of the cabin and the chimney, 
A large bed of mud mortar was made for daubing over these cracks so 
filled, and a few stones formed the back and jambs of the chimney. 

The cabin being thus finished, the ceremony of house-warming took 
place before the young couple were allowed to move into it. This 
' warming ' was a dance lasting a whole night, indulged in by the 
bride and groom, relatives and neighbors. On the day following, the 
young couple took possession of their new mansion. At house-raisings, 
log-rollings and harvest parties, every one was expected to do his duty 
faithfully. A person who shirked his duty on these occasions, was 
called a ' Laurence,' or some other still more opprobrious epithet, and 
if it ever came his turn to require a like aid, the idler soon felt his 
punishment in the general refusal to attend his call. Every man, too, 
of full age and size, was expected to do his full share of military or 
scouting duty. If he did not, he was 'hated out as a coward.' Even 
the want of any article of war equipments, such as ammunition, a sharp 
flint, a priming wire, a scalping knife or tomahawk, was thought highly 
disgraceful." 



198 Our Western Border. 



Border Customs and Battles — Tattling — Thieves, &c. 

" A man who, without good cause, failed to go out on a scout or 
campaign when it came to his turn, met with an expression of contempt 
in the countenances of all his neighbors, and epithets of dishonor were 
fastened upon him without mercy. Debts, which make such an uproar 
in civilized life, were then but little known. After the depreciation of 
the continental currency, they had no money of any kind, but paid for 
everything by peltry, produce or labor. A good cow and calf were often 
the price of a bushel of alum salt. Any petty theft was punished with 
all the infamy that could be heaped upon the offender. 

A man on a campaign stole from his comrade a cake out of the 
ashes. He was immediately named ' the bread rounds !' This epithet of 
reproach was bandied about thus : when he came in sight of a group of 
men, one of them would call out ' Who comes there?' Another would 
answer 'The bread rounds.' If any meant to be more serious, he 
would call out ' Who stole a cake out of the ashes ? ' Another would 
answer out the thief's name in full ; to this a third would give confirma- 
tion by exclaiming ' That's true and no lie ! ' This kind of tongue- 
lashing he was doomed to bear for the rest of the campaign, as well as 
for years after. 

If a theft was detected on the frontier, it was deemed a detestable 
crime and the maxim was ' a thief must be whipped ! ' If the theft was 
serious, a jury of the neighborhood, after hearing the testimony, would 
condemn the culprit to Moses' Law — that is, to forty stripes, save one. 
If the theft was trifling, the offender was doomed to carry on his back 
the U. S. flag of thirteen stripes, which stripes were well and heartily 
laid on. This was followed by sentence of exile. He had to decamp 
in so many days, under penalty of having his stripes doubled. If a 
woman was given to tattling and slander, she was allowed to say what 
she pleased without being believed, her tongue being said to be no 
scandal. 

With all their rudeness these people were given to hospitality and 
freely divided their rough fare with a neighbor or a stranger, and would 
have been offended at the offer of pay. In their forts and settlements, 
they lived, worked, fought, feasted and suffered together in cordial har- 
mony. They were warm and constant in their friendships. On the 
other hand, they were revengeful in their resentments, and the point of 
honor sometimes led to personal combats. If one called another a liar, 
he was considered as having given a challenge which the one who re^ 
ceived it must accept or be deemed a coward. If the injured party 



The Household Customs. 199 

was unable to fight the aggressor, he might get a friend to do it for 
him. The same thing took place on a charge of cowardice or any 
other dishonorable action — a battle must follow. Thus circumstanced, 
our people in early times were very cautious of speaking evil of their 
neighbors. 

Sometimes pitched battles occurred, in which time, place and seconds 
were appointed beforehand. I remember seeing one of these in my 
father's fort. One of the young men knew well that he should get the 
worst of the battle, and no doubt repented the engagement, but there 
was no getting over it. The point of honor demanded the risk of a bat- 
tle. He took .his whipping ; the contestants then shook hands, and 
that was an end of it. The mode of battle in those days was danger- 
ous in the extreme; although no weapons were used, fists, teeth and 
feet were used at will, but, above all, the detestable practice of gouging, 
by which eyes were sometimes put out, rendered this mode of fighting 
frightful indeed. The ministry of the Gospel contributed immensely to 
the happy change which has been effected in our western society. At 
an early period in our settlement, three Presbyterian clergymen com- 
menced their labors. They were pious, patient, laborious men, who 
collected their people into regular congregations, and did all for them 
that circumstances would allow. It was no disparagement to them that 
their first churches were in the shady groves, and their first pulpits a 
kind of tent, constructed of a few rough slabs and covered with clap- 
boards." 

The Household Customs — Hunters in Indian Dress. 

"The women did the offices of the household, milked the cows, cooked 
the mess, prepared the flax, spun, wove, and made the garments of 
linen or linsey. The men hunted and brought in the meat ; they planted, 
ploughed and gathered the corn. Grinding it into meal at the hand- 
mill or pounding it into hominy in the mortar, was occasionally the 
work of either or the joint labor of both. The men alone exposed 
themselves to danger, fought the Indians, cleared the land, reared the 
hut or built the fort in which the women were placed for safety. Much 
use was made of the skins of deer for dress, while the bear and buffalo 
skins were consigned to the floor for beds and covering. Wooden ves- 
sels, either turned or coopered, were in common use as furniture. A 
tin cup was as rare a luxury as an iron fork. 

Every hunter carried his knife ; it was no less the implement of a 
warrior ; not unfrequently the rest of the family were left with but one 
or two for the use of all. When the bed was, by chance or refinement, 
elevated above the floor, it was often laid on slabs placed across poles 



200 Our Western Border. 

and supported on forks; or, when the floor was of puncheons, the bed- 
stead was hewed pieces, pinned on upright posts or let into them by 
auger holes. The food was of the most wholesome kind. The richest 
milk, the finest butter and best meat that ever delighted man's palate, 
were eaten with a relish which health and labor only could command. 
Hats were made of native fur, and the buffalo wool employed to make 
cloth, as was also the bark of the wild nettle. There was some paper 
money in the country. If there was any gold and silver, it was sup- 
pressed. The price of a beaver hat was, in the depreciated currency 
of the day, worth five hundred dollars. 

The hunting shirt was universally worn by the men. This was a 
kind of loose frock, reaching half way down the thighs, with large 
sleeves, open before, and so wide as to lap over a foot or more when 
belted. The cape was large and sometimes handsomely fringed with a 
raveled piece of cloth of a different color from that of the hunting shirt 
itself. The bosom of this shirt served as a wallet to hold a chunk of 
bread, cakes, jerk, tow for wiping the barrel of the rifle, or any other 
necessary for the hunter or warrior. The belt, which was always tied 
behind, answered several purposes besides that of holding the dress to- 
gether. In cold weather, the mittens, and sometimes the bullet-bag, 
occupied the front part of it. To the right side was suspended the 
tomahawk, and to the left the scalping knife in its leathern sheath. 

The hunting shirt was generally made of linsey; sometimes of 
coarse linen, and a few of dressed deer skins. These last were very 
cold and uncomfortable in wet weather. The skirt and jacket were of 
the common fashion. A pair of drawers or breeches and leggins were 
the dress of the thighs and legs ; a pair of moccasins answered for the 
feet much better than shoes, and were made of dressed deer skin. They 
were mostly made out of a single piece, with a gathering seam along 
the top of the foot, and another from the bottom of the heel, without 
gathers, as high as the ankle joint, or higher. Flaps were left on each 
side to reach some distance up the leg, and were adapted to the ankles 
and lower part of the leg by thongs of deer skin, so that no dust, snow 
or gravel could find its way within. 

The moccasins in general use cost but a few hours of labor to fashion, 
and were done by a moccasin awl made from the back spring of an old 
clasp knife. This awl, with its buck-horn handle, was an appendage of 
every bullet-pouch strap, together with a roll of buckskin thongs for 
mending moccasins, which was the labor of almost every evening. 
They were sewed and patched together with deer-skin thongs, or 
whangs, as they were commonly called. In cold weather, these moc- 
casins were well stuffed with deer's hair or dry leaves, so as to keep the 



Sports and Pastimes of the Pioneers. 201 

feet comfortably warm ; but in wet weather it was usually said that 
wearing them was only 'a. decent way of going barefooted/ and such, 
indeed, was the fact, owing to the spongy texture of the leather of 
which they were made. 

Owing to the defective covering of the feet more than to anything 
else, the greater number of hunters and warriors were afflicted with 
rheumatism in the limbs. Of this disease they were all apprehensive in 
cold or wet weather, and therefore always slept with their feet to the 
fire, to prevent or cure it as well as they could. This kept them from 
being confirmed cripples for life. 

In the latter years of the Indian war, our young men became more 
enamored of the Indian dress. The drawers were laid aside, and the 
leggins made longer, so as to reach the upper part of the thigh. The 
Indian breech-cloth was adopted. This was a piece of linen cloth, 
nearly a yard long and eight or nine inches broad, hanging before and 
behind over the belt, sometimes ornamented with coarse embroidery. 
To the same belt which secured the breech-cloth, strings, supporting the 
long leggins, were attached. When this belt, as was often the case, 
passed over the hunting shirt, the upper part of the thighs and part of 
the hips were naked. The young warrior, instead of being abashed by 
this nudity, was proud of his Indian dress. In some few instances i 
have seen them go into places of public worship in this dress. Their 
appearance, however, did not much add to the devotion of the young 
ladies. The linsey coats and bed gowns, which were the universal dress 
of our women in early times, would make a strange figure at this day,. 
They knew nothing of the ruffles, leghorns, curls, combs, rings, and 
other jewels with which the ladies now decorate themselves. Such 
things were not then to be had. Instead of the toilet, they had to 
handle the distaff or shuttle — the sickle or weeding hoe — contented if 
they could obtain their linsey clothing and cover their heads with a sun- 
bonnet made of six or seven hundred linen." 

The Sports and Pastimes of the Pioneers. 

' • The sports of the pioneers were such as might be expected among 
a people who, owing to circumstances as well as education, set a higher 
value on physical than mental endowments and on skill in hunting and 
bravery in war, than any polite accomplishment or the fine arts. Many 
of the sports were imitative of the exercises and stratagems of hunting 
and war. Boys were taught the use of the bow and arrow at an early 
age, and acquired considerable adroitness in their use, so as to kill a 
bird or a squirrel. One important pastime of boys was that of imitat- 



202 Our Western Border. 

ing the noise of every bird and beast of the woods. This faculty was 
not merely a pastime, but a very necessity of education, on account of 
its practical utility. Imitating the gobbling and other sounds of the wild 
turkey, often brought those watchful and keen-eyed tenants of the 
forest within reach of the rifle. The bleating of the fawn brought 
its dam to her death in the same way. The hunter often collected a 
company of mopish owls to the trees about his camp and amused him- 
self with their hoarse screaming. His howl would raise and obtain re- 
sponses from a pack of wolves so as to inform him of their whereabouts, 
as well as to guard him against their depredations. 

This imitative faculty was sometimes requisite as a measure of pre- 
caution in war. The Indians, when scattered about in a neighborhood, 
often collected together by imitating turkeys by day and wolves by 
night. In similar situations our people did the same. I have often 
witnessed the consternation of a whole neighborhood in consequence of 
the screeching of owls. An early and correct use of this imitative 
faculty was considered as an indication that its possessor would become 
in due time a good hunter and a valiant warrior. 

Throwing the tomahawk was another boyish sport in which many 
acquired considerable skill. The tomahawk, with its handle of a cer- 
tain length, will make a given number of turns within a certain dis- 
tance j say, in five steps it will strike with the edge, the handle down- 
wards — at the distance of seven and a half it will strike with the edge, 
the handle upwards, and so on. A little experience enabled the boy to 
measure the distance with his eyes when walking through the woods, 
and to strike a tree with his tomahawk in any way he chose. A well- 
grown boy at the age of twelve or thirteen, was furnished with a small 
rifle and shot pouch. He then became a foot soldier and had his port- 
hole assigned him. Hunting squirrels, turkeys and raccoons, soon 
made him expert in the use of his gun. 

Shooting at a mark was a common diversion among the men when 
their stock of ammunition would allow it ; this, however, was far from 
being always the case. The present mode of shooting off-hand was not 
then in practice. This mode was not considered as any trial of a gun ; 
nor, indeed, as much of a test of the skill of a marksman. Their shoot- 
ing was from a rest, and as great a distance as the length and weight of 
the barrel of the gun would throw a ball on a horizontal level. Such 
was their regard to accuracy in those sportive trials of their rifles, and 
in their own skill in the use of them, that they often put moss or some 
other soft substance on the log or stump from which they shot, for fear 
of having the bullet thrown from the mark by the spring of the barrel. 
When the rifle was held to the side of a tree for a rest, it was pressed 



Sports and Pastimes of the Pioneers. 203 

against it as tightly as possible, for the same reason. Rifles of former 
times were different from those of modern date ; few of them carried 
more than forty-five bullets to the pound. Bullets of a less size were 
not thought sufficiently heavy for hunting or war. 

The athletic sports of running, jumping and wrestling, were the pas- 
times of boys in common with men. Dramatic narrations, chiefly con- 
cerning Jack and the Giant, furnished our young people with another 
source of amusement during their leisure hours. The different incidents 
of the narration were easily committed to memory, and have been 
handed down from generation to generation. The singing of the first 
settlers was rude enough. ' Robin Hood ' furnished a number of our 
songs; the balance were mostly tragical; these were denominated 'love 
songs about murder.' As to cards, dice, backgammon and other games 
of chance, we knew nothing about them. They are among the blessed 
gifts of civilization ! Dancing was the principal amusement of our 
young people of both sexes. Their dances, to be sure, were of the 
simplest forms ; three-handed and four-handed reels and jigs. Country 
(contra) dances, cotillions and minuets, were unknown. I remember to 
have seen, once or twice, a dance which was called < The Irish Trot' " 



204 Our Western Border. 



THE CAPTIVITY OF JOHN McCULLOUGH. 
Written by Himself After Eight Years a Captive. 

We have quoted liberally from Dr. Doddridge, because he himself 
lived on the border ; was an actor in the stirring scenes which occurred 
during the Indian wars, and, being well acquainted with the early- 
pioneers and their ways and customs, has graphically pictured them, 
writing only of what he himself saw or knew. Such a chronicle, there- 
fore, is obviously worth a score of those written at this late day and 
from a modern stand point. 

For a somewhat similar reason we publish a few simple narratives of 
captivities, because, like that of Smith's, already related, they furnish 
the most faithful transcript of Indian daily life and habits. They treat 
of a singular and deeply interesting period and condition in our history 
— the like of which has never occurred since and can never occur again. 
Before, therefore, we proceed to the settlement of Kentucky, or sketch 
the lives of the remarkable worthies who traveled or fought over that 
"dark and bloody ground," we select two narratives of captivities 
which happened contemporaneously with that of Captain Smith. And 
first, we give an abridgment of what John McCullough saw and suffered 
during an eight years' residence among redskins. We quote : 

I was born in Newcastle county, in the State of Delaware. When I 
was five years old my father moved his family from thence to the back 
parts of then Cumberland (now Franklin) county, to a place well known 
by the name of Conococheague settlement, about a year before what 
has been generally termed Braddock's war. Shortly after the com- 
mencement of the war, he moved his family into York county* where 
he remained until the Spring of 1756, when we ventured home; we 
had not been long at home until we were alarmed again ; we then fled 
down to Antietam settlement, where we remained until the beginning of 
harvest, then ventured home to secure our crops; we stopped about 
three miles from home, where we got a small cabin to live in until my 
father went home and secured the grain. 

On the 26th of July, 1756, my parents and oldest sister went home 
to pull flax, accompanied by one John Allen, a neighbor, who had 
business at Fort Loudon, and promised to come that way in the evening 
to accompany them back. Allen had proceeded but about two miles 



Captivity of John McCullotjgh. 205 

toward Loudon when he heard the Indians had killed a man that morn- 
ing, about a mile and a half from where my parents were at work ; he 
then, instead of going back to accompany them home, agreeably to his 
promise, took a circuitous route of about six or seven miles, for fear of 
Indians. When he came home, my brother and I were playing on the 
great road, a short distance from the house; he told us to go immediate- 
ly to the house or the Indians would catch us, adding, at the same time, 
that he -.supposed they had killed our father and mother by that time. 

We were small ; I was about eight years old, my brother was but five ; 
we went to the house, the people were all in a bustle, making ready to 
go to a fort about a mile off. I recollect of hearing them say, that 
somebody should go and give my parents notice ; none would venture 
to go ; my brother and I concluded that we would go ourselves ; ac- 
cordingly we laid off our trowsers and went off in our shirts, unnoticed 
by any person, leaving a little sister about two years old sleeping in 
bed ; when we got in sight of the house we began to halloo and sing, 
rejoicing that we had got home ; when we came within about fifty or 
sixty yards of the house, all of a sudden the Indians came rushing out 
of a thicket upon us ; they were six in number, to wit, five Indians and 
one Frenchman ; they divided into two parties ; three rushed across the 
path before, and three behind us. This part of the scene appears to me 
yet more like a dream than anything real : my brother screamed aloud 
the instant we saw them ; for my part, it appeared to me that the one 
party were Indians and the other white people; they stopped before us; 
I was making my way betwixt two of them, when one of the hind party 
pulled me back by my shirt ; they instantly ran up a little hill to where 
they had left their baggage ; there they tied a pair of moccasins on my 
feet ; my brother at that instant broke off from them, running towards 
the house, screaming as he went ; they brought him back, and started 
off as fast as I was able to run along with them, one of them carrying 
my brother on his back. 

We ran alongside of the field Avhere my parents were at work; they 
were only intercepted from our view by a small ridge in the field, that 
lay parallel to the course we were running; when we had got about 
seventy or eighty perches from the field, we sat down in a thicket of 
bushes, where we heard our father calling us ; two of the Indians ran 
off towards the house, but happily missed him, as he had returned back 
to the field, supposing that we had gone back again. The other four 
started off with us as fast as I was able to travel along with them, jump- 
ing across every road we came to, one catching by each arm and sling- 
ing me over the road to prevent our tracks from being discovered. 
We traveled all that day, observing still when we came to an emi- 



206 Our Western Border. 

nence, one of them would climb up a tree, and point out the course 
they should take, in order, I suppose, to avoid being discovered. It 
came on rain towards evening ; we traveled on till a good while after 
night ; at last we took up our lodging under a large tree ; they spread 
down a blanket for us to lie on, and laid another over us; an Indian 
laid down on each side of us on the edge of our cover, the rest laid 
down at our head and feet. At break of day we started again ; about 
sunrise we heard a number of axes at a short distance from us ; we also 
discovered where logs had been dragged on the ground the day before ; 
they immediately took the alarm and made off as quick as possible. 
Towards evening we stopped on the side of a mountain ; two of the 
Indians and the Frenchman went down into the valley, leaving one to 
take care of us ; they were not long gone till we heard them shooting ; 
m a short time they came back, carrying a parcel of hogs on their backs^ 
and a foAvl they had killed; also a parcel of green apples in their 
bosoms ; they gave us some of the apples, which was the first nourish- 
ment we got from the time we were taken. 

We then went down the mountain into an obscure place, where they 
kindled a fire and singed the hair off the hogs and roasted them; the 
fowl they roasted for us. We had not been long there till we heard the 
war halloo up the run from where we had our fire, and the two Indians 
came to us, whom I mentioned had ran towards the house when they 
heard my father calling us ; they had a scalp with them, and by the 
color of the hair I concluded that it had been my father's, but I was 
mistaken ; it was the scalp of the man they killed the morning before 
they took us; this scalp they made two of, and dried them at the fire. 
After roasting the meat and drying the scalps, we took to the mountain 
again; when we had got about half way up, we stopped and sat down 
on an old log — after a few minutes' rest they rose up, one after another, 
and went to the sides of rocks and old logs and began to scrape away 
the leaves, Avhere they drew out blankets, bells, a small kettle, and sev- 
eral other articles which they had hidden when they were coming down. 

We got over the mountain that evening; about sunset we crossed a 
large road in sight of a waste house; we went about a quarter of a mile 
further and encamped by the side of a large run; one of then went 
about two or three hundred yards from the camp and shot a deer and 
brought it to the camp on his back. I had been meditating my escape 
from the time we crossed the road. Shortly after dark we laid down; I 
was placed next to the fire, my brother next, and an Indian laid down 
on the edge of the blanket behind us. I awoke some time in the night, 
and roused my brother, whispering to him to rise, and we would go off; 
he told me that he could not go; I told him that I would go myself, but 



/ 



McCullough's Idea of the Devil. 207 

he replied that he did not care. I got up as softly as I could, but had 
not got more than three or four yards from the fire till the Indian who 
lay at our backs raised his head and said, " Where you go?" I told 
him I was going for a call of nature ; he said, "make haste, come sleep" 
I went and laid down again. 

Next morning four of the Indians and the Frenchman went off on a 
scout, leaving one to take care of us. About the middle of the day 
they came running the way we came the evening before — they hallooed 
as soon as they came in sight; by the time they got to the camp, the 
one who took care of us took me on his back and ran as fast as he could 
for about a quarter of a mile, then threw me down, broke a twig and 
switched me along until we got on the mountain again; about an hour 
after, we began to gather whortleberries, as they were very plenty on 
the mountains; lucky, indeed, for us, for I verily believe we would 
have starved, had it not been for the berries, for we could not eat the 
meat without bread or salt. We got off the mountain that evening, and 
encamped in a thicket ; it rained that night and the next morning ; they 
had made a shade of some of their spare blankets; we were long in 
starting the next morning. Whilst we were sitting about the fire we 
heard the report of two guns at a little distance directly the way we 
came the evening before; they started up in an instant, and picked up 
their blankets and other things. The one who carried me before took 
me on his back and ran as fast as he could for about half a mile, then 
threw me down and whipped me along as he had done the day before. 

McCullough's Idea of the Devil — How He was Made Hardy. 

It must be observed that they always carried my brother time about; 
for my part it was the only two rides I got from the day I was taken 
till we got to Fort.Duquesne (now Pittsburgh.) I must pass over many 
occurrences that happened on our way to Pittsburgh, excepting one or 
two. The morning before we came to Kee-ak-kshee-man-nit-toos, which 
signifies Cut Spirit, an old town at the junction of La-el-han-neck, or 
Middle Creek, and Can-na-maugh, or Otter Creek. The morning be- 
fore we got there, they pulled all the hair out of our heads, except a 
small spot on the crown, which they left. We got to the town about 
the middle of the day, where we got some squashes to eat; the next 
morning we set out for Fort Duquesne — the morning after that we came 
to several Indian camps — they gave us some bread, which was the first 
we tasted from the time we were taken. About a mile or two before 
we came to the fort, we met an old Indian, whose dress made him ap- 
pear very terrifying to us; he had a brown coat on him, no shirt, his 



208 Our Western Border. 

breast bare, a breech-clout, a pair of leggins and moccasins, his face 
and breast painted rudely with vermilion and verdigris, a large bunch 
of artificial hair, dyed of a crimson color, fixed on the top or crown of 
his head, a large triangular piece of silver hanging below his nose, that 
covered almost the whole of his upper lip; his ears (which had been cut 
according to their peculiar custom) were stretched out with fine brass 
wire, made in the form (but much larger) of what is commonly fixed 
in suspenders, so that, perhaps, he appeared something like what you 
might apprehend to be a likeness of the devil. 

As he approached toward us, the rest said something to him — he took 
hold of me by the arm, and lashed me about from side to side; at last 
he threw me from him as far as he was able, then took hold of my bro- 
ther and served him the same way. Shortly after that they stopped and 
painted us, tying or fixing a large bunch of hawk's feathers on the top 
of each of our heads, then raised the war halloo, viz. : one halloo for 
each scalp, and one for each prisoner, still repeating at certain intervals; 
we met several Indians who came running out to meet us — we were ta- 
ken to the middle of their encampment into one of their chiefs huts; 
after they had given a narrative of their adventures, the old chief drew 
out a small bag from behind his bed and took out a large belt of wam- 
pum and fixed it around my neck. We then started down to the fort; 
a great number of Indians of both sexes were paraded on each side of 
the path to see us as we went along; some of them were shoving in lit- 
tle fellows to strike us, and others advising me to strike them, but we 
seemed to be both afraid of each other; we were taken into a French 
house, where a number of Indians were sitting on the floor; one of the 
chiefs took my brother by the hand and handed him to a Frenchman 
who was standing at a room door, which was the last sight I had of him. 
After that he took me by the hand, and made a speech for about half 
an hour, then handed me to an Indian, who was sitting on the hearth 
smoking his pipe ; he took me between his legs, (he could talk very 
good English,) and asked me several questions, telling me that I was 
his brother, that the people had killed a brother of his about a year be- 
fore, and that these good men (meaning the warriors who took us) had 
gone and brought me to release his deceased brother; he also told me 
that he had been raised amongst the white people, and that he had been 
taught to read when he was young, but that he had almost forgot it. I 
believe he was telling the truth, for he knew all the letters and figures. 
He then took me by the hand and led me to the Al-lee-ge-ning, or Alle- 
gheny river, which signifies an impression made by the foot of a human 
being ; for, said they, the land is so rich about it that a person cannot 
travel through the lands adjoining it without leaving the mark of their 



How He was Made Hardy. 209 

feet. We got in a canoe and went across the river, where a great num- 
ber of Indians were encamped. He led me through their encampment; 
toward evening we came back. Shortly after our return two young fel- 
lows took me by the hand and led me to the river ; we got into a 
canoe and paddled about thirty or forty yards from the shore, when 
they laid down their paddles and laid hold of me by the wrists, and 
plunged me over head and ears under the water, holding me down till I 
was almost smothered, then drew me up to get breath. This they re- 
peated several times. 

I had no other thought but that they were going to drown me. I 
was at every interval pleading with them not to drown me ; at last one 
of them said, " me no killim, me washim." I pleaded with them to let 
me in shallow water, and I would wash myself; accordingly they did — I 
then began to rub myself; they signified to me to dive; I dipped my 
face into the water and raised it up as quick as I could : one of them 
stepped out of the canoe and laid hold of me on the back of my neck, 
and held me down to the bottom, till I was almost smothered, before he 
let me go. I then waded out ; they put a new ruffled shirt on me, tell- 
ing me that I was then an Indian, and that they would send me away to 
the rest of their friends. Accordingly I was sent off the next day with 
a female friend, to an uncle of my adopted brother's, who lived at a 
town called Ske-nang-go, on Beaver Creek. Nothing remarkable hap- 
pened during our journey, excepting several falls that I got off a young 
horse I was set on to ride. 

On the third or fourth night we arrived in She-nang-go, about an 
hour after dark : after the female friend whom I was sent with had in- 
formed the family who I was, they set up a lamentable cry for some 
time : when their lamentation was over, they came to me one after 
another and shook me by the hand, in token that they considered me 
to stand in the same relationship to them as the one in whose stead I 
was placed. The next morning I was presented to my uncle, with 
whom I lived about a year. He was blind of one eye — a very good- 
natured man. In the beginning of Winter he used to raise me up by 
daylight every morning, and make me sit down in the creek up to my 
chin in the cold water, in order to make me hardy, as he said, whilst he 
would sit on the bank smoking his pipe, until he thought I had been 
long enough in the water, and he would then bid me dive. After I 
came out of the water he would order me not to go near the fire until 
I would be dry. I was kept at that till the water was frozen over ; he 
would then break the ice for me and send me in as before. Some time 
in the Winter, perhaps not long before Christmas, I took very sick ; I 
lay all Winter at the fire side, and an old squaw attended me (what lit- 
14 



210 Our Western Border. 

de attendance I got) ; she used to go out in the snow and hunt up 
herbs by the old tops ; the roots of which she would boil and make a 
kind of drink for me. She would never suffer me to taste cold water, 
or any kind of flesh, or anything that was sweet or salt. The only 
nourishment that I was suffered to take was honey, or dumplings, made 
of coarse Indian meal boiled in water. As I said before, I lay all Win- 
ter at the fire side ; I had nothing but a small blanket to cover me, part 
of which I drew under me for my bed ; my legs drew up so that I was 
obliged to crawl when I had occasion to go out of doors. I remained 
in that situation till corn-planting time, when I began to get better. 
They anointed my knees and hams with bear's oil, and made me keep 
my knees stretched out as tight as I could bear them, by which means I 
got the use of my joints in about a month's time. 

An Indian Boy Shot and Killed — McCullough Suspected. 

Shortly after I got able to run about, a dreadful accident happened 
by my hands, in the following manner : The most of the Indians of the 
town were either at their corn fields or out a fishing — my uncle had 
been unwell for some time — he was below the town at the creek side, 
where he had an Indian doctor sweating him and conjuring out his dis- 
order. He had a large pistol, which he had hung up by the guard at 
the head of his bed. There were two brothers, relations of ours, the 
oldest was perhaps about my own age, the other about two years 
younger. The oldest boy took down the pistol and cocked it, threat- 
ening, for diversion, to shoot his brother : the little fellow ran off from 
us. I assisted him to let down the cock of the pistol, which he held in 
his left hand with the muzzle towards his body, and his right hand 
against the cock ; I would then (after cautioning him to turn the muz- 
zle past his body) draw the trigger, and he would let down the cock 
slowly. I advised him several times to lay by the pistol, which he 
would do ; but as soon as his brother would come back to us, he would 
get it again. At last his brother got afraid and would not come near 
us any more. 

He then threatened to shoot me ; I fled out of the house from him. 
The town lay in a semi-circular form, round a bend of the creek ; there 
happened to be a woman at the upper end of the town (as we lived at 
the lower end) that had observed me when I fled out of the house from 
him — he immediately called me back to assist him to let down the cock ; 
I refused to go, unless he would turn the butt of the pistol to me, which 
he did; I went in, in haste (and forgot to caution him to hold the muz- 
zle to one side) and drew the trigger ; the consequence was. the pistol 



An Indian Boy Shot and Killed, 211 

went off and shot him in the stomach. The pistol flew out of our hands ; 
he laid his hands across his breast and ran out of the house, screaming 
aloud as he ran; I ran out of the house and looked after him ; he went 
towards their own door, (about forty or fifty yards off,) but quit 
screaming before he fell. It was late in the evening ; his mother and 
grandmother were coming from their corn field at that instant ; his grand- 
mother just cast her eye towards him, as she came past him, and came 
to me where I was standing ; before they got near me, I told her that 
Waiook, (for that was his name,) had shot himself; she turned away 
from me without saying anything. In a short time all the Indians in 
the town collected about me, examining me, and getting me to show 
them what way he took to shoot himself; I told them that he took the 
pistol in his left hand and held the muzzle to his stomach, whilst he 
pushed the trigger from him with his thumb : I held to the one story. 
At last the woman (whom I mentioned had seen me when I fled out of 
the house from him) came and told them that she was standing out of 
doors looking at me across the bend of the creek, at the time she heard 
the report of the pistol, and that I was standing a considerable distance 
from the house at the time — at which they all dispersed . There was 
something very singular in this affair, as the same woman and her hus- 
band, about a year after the above accident, were the means of saving 
my life when I was apparently drowned, as I shall have occasion to 
mention hereafter. 

It happened to be the first funeral that I had seen amongst them, and 
not being acquainted with their customs, I was put to a terrible fright ; 
shortly after dark they began to fire their guns, which they always do 
when any one dies. As all the family had gone to the wake, I was left 
by myself in the house ; when the firing began I concluded that they 
were about to take my life ; I therefore crept under a bed that was set 
upon forks drove into the ground, a considerable height off the floor, 
where I lay as close to the wall as I could get, till about break of day, 
when I was roused by the report of their guns again. I did not go 
near the corpse — however, I heard them say, that he bled none, as the 
wadding and the blaze of the powder had followed the ball into his 
body. There were several young squaws who had seen us running 
about with the pistol ; they frequently charged me with being the cause 
of the boy's death, which I always denied, but Queek-queek-co-mooch- 
que a little white girl, (a prisoner,) who lived with the family that the 
deceased belonged to, was like to be the worst evidence against me — 
she told that she saw me have the pistol in my hands several times — but 
the woman's evidence overruled the whole of them ; however, their 
minds were not entirely divested of the thought that I had taken hi? 



212 Our Western Border. 

life, as they often cast it up to me afterwards, that I had shot Watook ; 
especially when I would happen to get into a quarrel with any of the 
little fellows, they would tell me that I had killed one of them already, 
and that I wanted to kill another ; however, I declared the thing was 
merely accidental. 

When I reflect on the above accident, and the circumstances attend- 
ing it, my mind flows with gratitude to that Almighty Being whose wise 
providence directs the affairs of the world ; I do not say that a lie is 
justifiable in the sight of God, yet I am led to believe that the woman 
was guided by Providence in telling a manifest falsehood, which, per- 
haps, was the means of prolonging my days ; as I am led to believe, had 
the true circumstances of the case been known to them, I never should 
have seen the light of another day ; nor should I have expected that my 
body would have been laid under the ground, but that I would rather 
have been thrown into the creek, to be devoured by fish, or left above 
ground to be devoured by vermin, as I knew to be the case with two 
men, which I shall mention before I close this narrative. 

Some time in the Summer following, we went to a treaty with the 
French at Presq' Isle. On our way there, we went by an Indian town at 
or near where Meadville now stands ; just as we got to the town, we 
observed a number of batteaux coming down French Creek ; the French 
came to the shore where we were ; one of them offered to purchase 
me from the Indians ; he offered for me an old spade, wanting the 
handle, (which, perhaps, was the lowest value that ever was set upon 
me). They laughed scornfully at him for his folly ; however, they de- 
camped immediately, for fear the French might come and steal me away 
by night. When we got to Presq' Isle, I was given up to my Indian 
mother, whom I had never seen before. After the treaty was over, my 
old uncle returned to Shenango, and left me with my old mother and 
two brothers something older than myself; we bad a step-father also, 
who hunted for us. We moved from Presq' Isle near to Fort Le Bceuf y 
where my mother had raised a small patch of corn ; we lived there till 
the Fall, occasionally going to .the fort to draw rations, as the French 
constantly supplied the Indians with provisions whilst they lay about 
the fort. The French always observed to fire off a swivel, as a salute, 
when the Indians came to the fort with prisoners or scalps. 

Towards Fall my old brother (I call him old because he was the 
oldest of the family — he was not more than twenty-two or three) came 
to us ; I had not seen him from the time I was given to him at Fort 
Duquesne (or Pittsburgh) till then ; he came to take us to Shenango to 
live amongst the rest of our friends. We had but one horse to carry 
our provisions; our apparel we carried on our backs like the terrapin, 



Captive Nearly Drowned. 213 

so that we had to travel on foot. We were a long time on the way, as 
they frequently stopped three or four days at a place to hunt. We ar- 
rived at Shenango in the beginning of Winter. Not long after our ar- 
rival, I took a severe turn of the pleurisy, and lay very ill for about 
twenty days ; my old mother and an old aunt paid great attention to 
me ; observing, with regard to my drink and diet, as my former attend- 
ant had d<5ne before. 

Captive Nearly Drowned — A Squaw Whipped for Abusing Him. 

The next Summer I had like to lose my life ; all the Indians of the 
town, excepting one man and a woman, were out at their corn 
fields, leaving the young ones to take care of their houses. About 
ten o'clock of the day, four of the little fellows and I went into the 
creek to bathe ourselves ; the creek is perhaps about sixty or seventy 
yards wide ; there is a ridge of rocks that reaches across the stream, 
where I had often observed the Indians wading across, the water being 
deep at each side; I ventured to wade over, and made out very well 
until I got about a rod off the shore on the opposite side ; when the 
water began to get too deep for me, I turned about, proud of my per- 
formance. When I had got about half way back, I missed my course, 
and all at once stepped over the edge of the rocks and went down over 
head and ears ; I made a few springs as high as I could above the water; 
at last I swallowed so much water, not having yet learned to swim, 
I was obliged to give over. When the little fellows who came to bathe 
along with me, saw that I had given myself up, they raised the scream. 
The woman whom I mentioned before, came running to the bank to see 
what was the matter ; they told her that Is ting-go -w eh- king (for that was 
the name they gave me) was drowned. She immediately ran to the 
house and awaked her husband, who came as quick as possible (as they 
told me afterwards) to my relief; as I kept afloat all the time, he waded 
up to his chin before he could get a hold of me by the leg, he then 
trailed me through the water until he got to the rocks that I had stepped 
over, he then laid me on his shoulder and brought me out to the bank, 
where he threw me down, supposing that I was dead. 

It happened that my head was down hill; the water gushed out of my 
mouth and nose; they had previously sent off one of the little boys to 
inform my friends of the accident. After some time I began to show 
some signs of life. He then took me by the middle, clasping his hands 
across my belly, and shook me, the water still running plentifully out of 
my mouth and nose. By the time my friends arrived, I began to breathe 
more freely. They carried me up the bank to a weik-waum, 01 



214 Our Western Border. 

■ 
house, and laid me down on a deer skin, where I lay till about the mid- 
dle of the afternoon; at last I awoke out of sleep and was surprised to 
see a great number of Indians of both sexes standing around me. I 
raised my head, my old brother advanced toward me, and said, li au 
moygh-t-ha-heeh a-moigh" that is, "rise, go and bathe yourself." I 
then recollected what I had been doing. He told me that if he would 
see me in the creek again he would drown me outright ; however, the 
very next day I was paddling in the water again. 

Some time whilst we resided at She-nang-go, (perhaps in the latter end 
of November,) about thirty warriors returned through She-na?ig-go from 
a tour; they were of the Mingo nation: they had a number of scalps 
with them and a prisoner, a man of about twenty-five years of age; one 
of the party had got wounded in the body; the prisoner had a large 
bundle of blankets tied up and slung on his back, with a hap-fiees\ for 
the wounded Indian to sit on. I make no doubt but that he had car- 
ried him the whole way from where he received the wound, which, I 
presume, could not be less that two hundred miles. They tarried about 
two hours in town, then started off again. The prisoner had to take 
the wounded Indian on his back again and march off; I understood they 
had to go a considerable distance beyond Presq' Isle, which, I presume, 
could not be less than three hundred and fifty or four hundred miles 
that the poor, unfortunate prisoner had to carry the wounded Indian on 
his back, before they would get to their destination. However, he had 
one advantage over what other prisoners had to undergo, that was, he 
was exempt from a severe beating at every town they went through be- 
fore they got to their destination, which every grown person has to suf- 
fer, as I shall relate hereafter. I understood by them that it was a gen- 
eral custom among all their nations, that if any one happened to get 
wounded, that the rest would do their utmost to take a prisoner or pris- 
oners to carry him. 

We lived about two years and a half in Shenango; we then moved to 
where they were settling a new town, called Kseek-he-ooing, that is, a 
place of salt ; a place now well known by the name of Salt Licks, on 
the west branch of Beaver, where we lived about one year: we moved 
there about the time that General Forbes took Fort Duquesne from the 
French. My brother had been about three years married; they had a 
young son, whom they thought a great deal of; my sister-in-law was very 
cross to me when my brother was absent; he had heard of it, and asked 
me, when we were by ourselves, if his wife did not strike me sometimes, 
when he was absent. I told him she did. He bid me to let him know 
if ever she would strike me again; not long after, my brother being ab- 
sent, she went to the corn field to work, and left her son in my care; 



A Novel Punishment. 215 

as soon as she left us, I began to divert myself with a foot ball; the lit- 
tle fellow was running after me crying aloud, and his mother heard him. 
While I was engaged in my diversions, she came behind me unnoticed, 
and knocked me down with the handle of a billhook. I took the first 
opportunity to inform my brother how she had treated me; he advised 
her not to treat me so any more, telling her what the consequence would 
be if she did. She was highly affronted at him, and went off and left 
us. About three days after she came back, attended by a female cousin 
of hers, to carry off her movables; whilst she was gathering up her 
goods, my brother stepped out and began to try the strength of some 
small branches that had been recently chopped off a green tree; at see- 
ing that, she fled out of the house and ran as fast as she was able. He 
pursued her, and whipped her severely; she ran back to the house for 
protection and squatted down behind his mother, who had occasionally 
come to see us ; it put the thoughts of leaving us out of her head; nei- 
ther did she ever strike me afterwards. 

A Novel Punishment — He Escapes from his Own Father. 

Some time while we resided at Kseek-he-ootng, or Salt Licks, Mo$- 
sooh-whese, or Ben Dickson, invented a kind of punishment to inflict 
on boys who would do mischief, such as quarreling, plundering water- 
melon or cucumber patches, &c, in the following manner: There is a 
kind of fish that abounds in the western waters, called a gar, that has a 
very long bill and long, sharp teeth; he took the bill of one of those fish and 
wrapped a thin rag round it, projecting the teeth through the rag. He 
took any one who would do any kind of mischief, and after wetting 
their thighs and legs, he would score them from the hip down to the 
heel, three or four times on each thigh and leg, and sometimes, if they 
were found guilty a second or third time, he would score them from the 
top of the shoulder down to the wrists, and from the top of the 
shoulder, on the back, to the contrary hip, crossways. It hap- 
pened once that a nephew of his, a very mischievous boy, threw the 
entrails of a turtle in my face, then ran off as quick as he could from 
me round the house; I picked up a stone and pursued him, and threw it 
after him; it happened to light on the top of his head and knocked him 
down, and cut his head badly, or, it is probable, he would have con- 
cealed it, as he well knew what the consequence would be; for his back, 
arms, thighs and legs were almost constantly raw by the frequent pun- 
ishments he got for his mischief. 

However, Mos-sooh-whese happened to be out a fishing at the time ; 
he was informed when he came home of what had taken place ; I was 



216 Our Western Border. 

apprehensive of what would be my doom, and was advised by my 
friends to hide myself; accordingly I got into a small addition to the 
house, where a number of bales of deer skin and fur were piled up ; I 
had not been long there until I heard him inquiring for me ; they told 
him that I had gone down to the creek, and was not returned yet : he 
therefore ordered one of my brothers, (who had been with him a fishing 
the day before,) to stand up until he would score him ; as my brother 
was partly man grown, he refused; a struggle ensued — my brother, 
however, was obliged to give up. The reason he gave for punishing 
others who were not present at the time the mischief was done was, 
that if they should be present at the time that any one was promoting 
mischief, he should do his best endeavor to prevent it, or inform 
against those who had done it — as the informer was always exempted 
from the punishment aforesaid. I then heard him say, that if I was to 
stay away a year he would score me ; he then went to the creek on the 
hunt of me ; after he was gone they told me that I might as well come 
out as conceal myself; accordingly I did. In a short time he came 
back, grinning and showing his teeth as if he had got a prize ; he or- 
dered me to stand up at the side of a post ; I obeyed his orders ; he 
then took and wet my thighs and legs, to prevent the skin from tear- 
ing ; he took the gar's bill, and gave me four scores, or scrapes, with it, 
from the point of the hip down to the heel — the mark of which I will 
carry to my grave. 

My oldest brother was from home at the time the above punishment 
was inflicted on us ; he came home that same night ; I scarcely ever 
saw him more out of humor than when he found the way we had been 
treated. He said, (whether he was in earnest or not, I cannot tell,) 
that if he had been at home he would have applied his tim-ma-keek-can 
to Mos-sooh-whese 's head rather than suffer such an ignominious 
punishment, as he conceived it, to be inflicted on any of his family. 
However, he told Mos-sooh-whese never to do the like again without his 
consent. I was very near being innocently punished about a year 
afterwards, notwithstanding I had more than a dozen of witnesses to 
prove that I was not, in the course of that day, where the mischief was 
done : which was only the plundering of a watermelon patch. 

Whilst we were living at Kseek-he-ooing, one Andrew Wilkins, a 
trader, came to the town, and was taken ill while there — he sent me to 
the other end of the town with some beads to purchase a fowl for him 
to work off a physic with ; when I came back, he was sitting alone in 
the house : as he could talk the Indian tongue tolerably well, he began 
to question me about where I was taken from ; I told him from Cono- 
cocheague — he asked my name ; I told him. As soon as he returned 



He Escapes from his Own Father. 217 

to Shippensburg, (which was his place of residence,) he informed my 
father that he had seen me, which was the firsfc account they received of 
me from the time I ivas taken. The next Spring we moved to a town 
about fifteen miles off, called Ma-hon-ing, which signifies a lick. Some 
time in the Summer following, my father came to Mahoning, and found 
me out. I was shy in speaking to him, even by an interpreter, as I had 
at that time forgot my mother tongue. My Indian brother not being 
at home, my father returned to Pittsburgh and left me. 

My brother was gone to Tus-c a- la-ways, about forty or fifty miles 
off, to see and hear a prophet that had just made his appearance amongst 
them ; he was of the Delaware nation ; I never saw nor heard him. It 
was said, by those who went to see him, that he had certain hiero- 
glyphics marked on a piece of parchment, denoting the probation that 
human beings were subjected to whilst they were living on earth, and 
also denoting something of a future state. They informed me that he 
was almost constantly crying whilst he was exhorting them. I saw a 
copy of his hieroglyphics, as numbers of them had got them copied 
and undertook to preach, or instruct others. 

The first (or principal doctrine) they taught them was to purify 
themselves from sin, which, they taught, they could do by the use of 
emetics, and abstinence from carnal knowledge of the different sexes; to 
quit the use of firearms, and to live entirely in the original state that 
they were in before the white people found out their country ; nay ; 
they taught that that fire was not pure that was made by steel and flint, 
but that they should make it by rubbing two sticks together, which I 
have frequently assisted to do, in the following manner : Take a piece of 
red cedar, have it well seasoned, get a rod of bor-tree, well seasoned, gouge 
out a small bit with the point of a knife, cut off the cedar about an eighth 
of an inch from the edge, set the end of the bor-tree in it, having first 
stuck a knife in the side of the cedar, to keep the dust that will rub out 
by the friction ; then take it between the hands and rub it, pressing 
hard on the cedar and rubbing as quick as possible ; in about half 
a minute the fire will kindle. It was said that their prophet taught 
them, or made them believe, that he had his instructions immediately 
from Keesh-she-la-mil-lang-up, or a being that thought us into being, 
and that by following his instructions, they would, in a few years, be 
able to drive the white people out of their country. 

I knew a company of them who had secluded themselves for the pur- 
pose of purifying from sin, as they thought they could do ; I believe 
they made no use of firearms. They had been out more than two years 
before I left them ; whether they conformed rigidly to the rules laid 
down to them by their prophet, I am not able to say with any degree oi 



218 Our Western Border. 

certainty — but one thing I know, that several women resorted to their 
encampment ; it was said,' that they made use of no other weapons than 
their bows and arrows : they also taught, in shaking hands, to give the 
left hand in token of friendship, as it denoted that they gave the heart 
along with the hand — but I believe that to have been an ancient, custom 
among them, and I am rather of opinion, that the practice is a caution 
against enemies — that is, if any violence should be offered, they would 
have the right hand ready to seize their tim-ma-keek-can, or tomahawk, 
or their paughk-sheek-can, or knife, to defend themselves, if necessary.* 

The Fall following, my father went out to Fort Venango, or French 
Creek, along with Wilkins. Wilkins sent a special messenger to 
Mahoning, for my brother to take me to Venango, telling him that my 
father would purchase me from him ; accordingly he took me off. with- 
out letting me know his intention, or, it is probable, I would not have 
gone with him. When we got to Venango, we encamped about a mile 
from the garrison ; my brother went to the garrison to bargain with my 
father for me, but told me nothing of it. The next morning my father 
and two others came to our camp, and told me that my brother wanted 
to see me at the fort ; I went along with them ; when we got there he 
told me that I must go home with my father, to see my mother and the 
rest of my friends ; I wept bitterly — all to no purpose ; my father was 
ready to start ; they laid hold of me and set me on a horse — I threw 
myself off; they set me on again, and tied my legs under the horse's 
belly, and started away for Pittsburgh. 

We encamped about ten or fifteen miles from Venango ; before we 
lay down, my father took his garters and tied my arms behind my back; 
however, I had them loose before my father lay down ; I took care to 
keep it concealed from them by keeping my arms back as if they were 
tied. About midnight, I arose from between my father and John 
Simeons, who was to accompany us to Pittsburgh ; I stepped out from 
the fire and sat down as if I had a real necessity for doing sc ; my 
father and Simeons arose and mended up the fire ; whilst they were lay- 
ing the chunks together, I ran off as fast as I could ; I had got near a 
hundred yards from the camp, when I heard them hunting a large dog, 
which they had along with them, after me ; I thought the d"g would 
certainly overtake me ; I therefore climbed up a tall tree, as fast as I 
could ; the dog stopped at the root of the tree, but as they continued 
to hunt him on, he ran off again — they came past the tree ; after they 



*The observant reader will note that these were the peculiar doctrines of PontiiC and. his Dela- 
ware prophet, and the incident so attested by a captive boy, proves that Pontiac had his emissaries 
out through all the tribes, trying to excite a general war. The murder of the fc/suJers, mentioned 
later, was part of the same plan. 



He Escapes from his Own Father, 219 

passed by me, I climbed further up, until I got to some limbs, where I 
could rest myself; the dog came back to the tree again — after a short 
time they came back and stood a considerable time at the root of the 
tree — then returned to the fire ; I could see them distinctly from where 
I was. 

I remained on the tree about an hour ; I then went down and steered 
through the woods till I found the road ; I went about two or three 
miles along it, and the wolves were making a hideous noise all around 
me 3 I went off the road a short distance and climbed up a dogwood 
sapling, and fixed myself on the branches of it, where I remained till 
break of day ; I then got on the road again ; I ran along as fast as I 
was able, for about five miles, where I came to an Indian camp ; they 
told me that I had better not keep the road, alleging that I would cer- 
tainly be pursued ; I took their advice and went off the road immedi- 
ately, and steered through the woods till I got to where my friends were 
encamped ; they advised me to take along the road that we came, when' 
we came there ; telling me that they were going to return home that 
day j I made no delay, but went on about ten miles, and there waited 
till they came up with me. Not long after I left them, my father came 
to the camp \ they denied that they had seen me — supposing that I had 
gone on to Mahoning by myself, telling him that if I had, that they 
would take me to Pittsburgh that Fall. 

Soon after we got home to Mahoning, instead of taking me to Pitts- 
burgh, agreeable to their promise, they set out on their Fall hunt, tak- 
ing me along with them ; we staid out till some time in the Winter 
before we returned. We lived about a mile out of Mahoning ; there 
were some traders at Kseek-he-ooing, or Salt Licks, early in the Spring. 
A nephew of my adopted brother's had stolen a horse from one Tom 
Green, a trader ; he pursued the thief to Mahoning ; he was gone out 
a trapping when Green came after him. Green waited three days on 
the Indian's return with the horse. The third night, about midnight, 
there came an alarm, which was notified by hallooing Qica-ah ! still 
repeating four halloos at a time, at certain intervals. When we heard 
the alarm, my oldest brother went off to the town, to see what was the 
matter. In about two hours he returned ; Green asked him what was 
the matter — he told him that it was some foolish young fellows that had 
done it, for diversion. Green did not seem to be satisfied with the 
answer. However, about sunrise Mus-sooh-whese, (an Indian, my 
adopted brother's nephew, known by the name of Ben Dickson, among 
the white people,) came to our house ; he had a pistol and a large scalp- 
ing knife, concealed under his blanket, belted round his body. He in- 
formed Ket-too-ha-lend (for that was my adopted brother's name) that 



220 Our Western Border. 

he came to kill Tom Green ; but Ket-too-ha-lend endeavored to per- 
suade him off it. They walked out together, and Green followed them, 
endeavoring, as I suppose, to discover the cause of the alarm the night 
before ; in a short time they returned to the house, and immediately 
went out again. Green asked me to bring him his horse, as we heard 
the bell a short distance off ; he then went after the Indians again, and 
I went for the horse. 

As I was returning, I observed them coming out of a house about 
two hundred yards from ours ; Ket-too-ha-lend was foremost, Green 
in the middle ; I took but slight notice of them, until I heard the report 
of a pistol ; I cast my eyes towards them and observed the smoke, and 
saw Green standing on the side of the path, with his hands across his 
breast ; I thought it had been him that shot ; he stood a few moments, 
then fell on his face across the path ; I instantly got off the horse, and 
held him by the bridle. Ket-too-ha-lend sunk his pipe tomahawk into 
his skull, Mos-sooh-whese stabbing him under the arm-pit with his 
scalping knife ; he had shot him between the shoulders with his -pistol. 
The squaws gathered about him, stripped him naked, trailed him down 
the bank, and plunged him into the creek ; there was a " fresh " in the 
creek at the time, which carried him off. Mos-sooh-whese then came 
to me, (where I was holding the horse, as I had not moved from the 
spot where I was when Green was shot,) with the bloody knife in his 
hand ; he told me that he was coming to kill me next ; he reached out 
his hand and took hold of the bridle, telling me that that was his horse ; 
I was glad to parley with him on the terms, and delivered the horse to 
him. All the Indians in the town immediately collected together, and 
started off to the Salt Licks, where the rest of the traders were, and 
murdered the whole of them, and divided their goods amongst them, 
and likewise their horses. My adopted brother took two horse loads 
of beaver skin, and set off with them to Tus-ca-la-ways, where a 
number of traders resided, and sold the fur to them. 

There happened to be an old Indian, who was known amongst the 
traders by the name of Daniel ; he cautioned the traders not to pur- 
chase the fur from him, assuring them that he had murdered some traders 
— to convince them, he showed them that the skins were marked with 
so many different marks, which convinced him in his opinion ; however, 
either through fear or some other motive, they exchanged goods for the 
fur ; the same evening, old Daniel offered his services to them, assuring 
them that he would endeavor to conduct them safe into Pittsburgh, add- 
ing that, if they would not take his advice, he was sure they would be 
all murdered by daylight the next morning ; they took his advice, and, 
as they lived about a mile out of town, they had an opportunity of go- 



He Escapes from his Own Father. 221 

ing away without being discovered ; they started shortly after dark, as 
was conjectured by the Indians, leaving all their merchandise behind 
them ; how many there were of them I do not recollect of hearing ; 
however, as I heard, they went on safe until they got to Ksack-hoong, 
an old Indian town at the confluence of the Beaver and Ohio, where 
they came to an Indian camp unawares ; probably the Indians had dis- 
covered them before they reached the camp, as they were ready for 
them ; as soon as they made their appearance the Indians fired on them 
— the whole of them fell, excepting old Daniel and one Calhoun, who 
made his escape into Pittsburgh ; old Daniel had a bullet shot into his 
saddle, close behind him, the mark of which I frequently saw, after he 
made his escape back to his friends. 

Mahoning lay on the frontier, as they had evacuated all their towns 
to the north of it when the war commenced. Shortly after the com- 
mencement of the war, they plundered a tanyard near to Pittsburgh, 
and carried away several horse-loads of leather ; they also committed 
several depredations along the Juniata ; it happened to be at a time 
when the small-pox was in the settlement where they were murdering, 
and the consequence was, a number of them got infected, and some 
died before they got home, others shortly after ; those who took it after . 
their return, were immediately moved out of the town, and put under 
the care of one who had had the disease before. In one of their excur- 
sions, they took some prisoners — among them was one of the name of 
Beatty, whom they beat unmercifully when they took him to Mahon- 
ing ; they set him to make bridles for them, (that is, to fill old bits,) of 
the leather they took from Pittsburgh; he appeared very cross; he 
would often run at the little fellows with his knife or awl, when they 
came to look at him where he was at work ; however, they soon took 
him off to Cay-a-haw-ga, a town not far distant from Lake Erie. 

We remained in Mahoning till shortly after the memorable battle at 
Bushy Run ; we then moved to Cay-a-haw-ga ; the day before we got 
there- they began to be alarmed at Beatty's behavior ; they held a coun- 
cil and agreed to kill him, lest he should take some of their lives. They 
led him about fifty or sixty perches out of the town, some walking be- 
fore and some behind him ; they then shot him with arrows. I went 
out the evening after we got there, along with some little fellows, to see 
him ; he was a very disagreeable sight to behold ; they had shot a great 
number of arrows into his body — then went off and left him exposed to 
the vermin ! 

The same year that Beatty was taken, Ket-too-ha-lend was the Moy- 
a-sooh-whese, or foreman, of a party consisting of nine Indians ; they 
came to a house where there were two men and a woman who had 



422 Our Western Border. 

killed a hog, and had a large pot of water on the fire, making ready to 
scald it — Ket- too -ha- lend rushed into the house — the rest stopped at 
the outside ; he seized the woman and shoved her out of the door, and 
told the rest to take care of her ; one of the men broke out of the house 
and made off, whilst the other catched hold of Ket-too-ha-lend by th~ 
arm, and endeavored to put him into the pot of boiling water, shoving 
him back to the corner of the house, where two guns were standing — 
he said he frequently called on the rest to come in to assist him, but 
none of them would venture in. The man was constantly looking about, 
either for assistance or from fear of the rest of the Indians ; he there- 
fore, after he was almost exhausted, watched his opportunity, and sud- 
denly putting his hand up behind the man's back, and catching hold of 
his queue, jerked his head back, by which means he got his other arm 
disengaged, and drew his tim-ma-keek-can, or tomahawk, and knocked 
him on the head. But, to his great mortification, when he came out, he 
found the woman whom he had shoved out of the door lying dead and 
scalped. 

We stayed but a short time in Cay-a-haw-ga, then moved across the 
country to the forks of Moosh-king-oong, (Muskingum,) which signifies 
clear eyes, as the river abounds with a certain kind of fish that have 
very clear eyes ; from thence we took up the west branch to its source, 
and from thence I know not where. Nothing remarkable happened 
during our peregrinations, excepting that we suffered by hunger, it be- 
ing in the Winter ; we sometimes had to make use of the stems of turkey 
quiNs for food, by running them under hot embers till they would swell 
and get crisp. We have subsisted on gum bark, and sometimes on 
white plantain ; but the greater part of our time on a certain kind of 
root that has something of the resemblance of a potato. 

. In the Spring we returned to the west branch of Moosh-king-oong, 
and settled in a new town, which he called Kta-ho-ling, which signifies a 
place where roots have been dug up for food. We remained there dur- 
ing the Summer. Sometimes in the Summer, whilst we were living at 
Kta-ho-ling, a great number of Indians collected at the forks of Moosh- 
king-oong ; perhaps there were three hundred or upwards; their inten- 
tion was to come to the settlements and make a general massacre of the 
whole people, without any regard to age or sex ; they were out about 
ten days, when the most of them returned ; having held a council, they 
concluded that it was not safe for them to leave their towns destitute of 
defence. However, several small parties went on to different parts of 
the settlements ; it happened that three of them, whom I was well ac- 
quainted with, came to the neighborhood of where I was taken from — 
-hey were young fellows, perhaps none of them more than twenty year? 






He Escapes from his Own Father. 223 

of age— tney came to a school house, where they murdered and scalped 
the master and all the scholars, excepting one, and a full cousin of 
mine, I saw the Indians when they returned home with the scalps; 
some of the old Indians were very much displeased at them for killing 
so many children, especially Neeppaugh-whese^ or Night Walker, an 
old chief cr Half King — he ascribed it to cowardice, which was the 
greatest affront he could offer them.* 

In the Fall they were alarmed by a report that the white people were 
marching out against them, which, in a short time, proved to be true ; 
Colonel Bouquet, with an army, was then actually marching out against 
them. As the Delaware nation was always on the frontier, (which was 
the nation I was amongst,) they had the first notice of it, and imme- 
diately gave the alarm to the other nations adjoining them. A council 
was called: the result was, that they were scarce of ammunition, and 
were not able to fight him; that they were then destitute of clothing; 
and that, upon the whole, it was best to come to terms of peace with 
the white people. Accordingly they sent off special messengers to meet 
the army on their march, in order to let them know that they were* dis- 
posed to come to terms of peace with them. The messengers met the 
army at Tuscalaways. They crept up to the camp after dark, and in- 
formed the guard that they were sent by their nation to sue for peace, 
The commander of the army sent for them to come into camp; they 
went and delivered their mission. The Colonel took care to take host- 
ages for their fidelity; the remainder were suffered to return; but he 
told them he would march his army on to Moos h- king- oong, where he 
expected to meet their chiefs and warriors, to come to terms of peace 
with him. assuring them, at the same time, that he would not treat with 
them but upon condition that they would deliver up all the prisoners 
they had in their possession. The messengers returned, and gave a nar- 
rative of their mission. The Sha-a-noo-wack, or Shawanese, were not 
satisfied with the terms; however, as the Delawares had left hostages 
with the commander of the army, the Shawanese acquiesced to come to 
terms of peace jointly with the other tribes. Accordingly the army 
marched on to Moosh-king-oong. The day they arrived there, an ex- 
press was sent off to one of their nearest towns, to inform them that 
they were ready to treat with them. 



* This refers to a horrid massacre in Pennsylvania, of a whole school, in August, '64. The remains 
of the murdered and mutilated scholars were all interred together, in a large and rudely constructed 
box. just as tDey were found. The name of the teacher was Brown. Seventy-nine years after an 
extiumation took place, and the bones were again committed to earth, and a mound raised to per- 
petuate the memory of this sad spot. The school house was truly a solitary one, and some of its 
remains exist to the present day. 



224 Our Western Border. 

We then lived about ten miles from Moosh-king-oong ; accordingly 
they took all the prisoners to the camp, myself among the rest, and de- 
livered us up to the army. We were immediately put under a guard — 
a few days after, we were sent under a strong guard to Pittsburgh. On 
our way two of the prisoners made their escape, to wit, one Rhoda Boyd 
and Elizabeth Studibaker, and went back to the Indians. I never heard 
whether they were ever brought back or not. There were about two 
hundred of us — we were kept a few days in Pittsburgh. There was one 
John Martin, from the Big Cove, came to Pittsburgh after his family, 
who had been taken by the Indians the Fall before I was taken : he got 
leave from the Colonel to bring me down along with his family. I got 
home about the middle of December, 1764, being absent (as I heard 
my parents say) eight years, four months and sixteen days. Previous 
to my return, my father had sold his plantation, where I was taken from, 
and bought another about four miles from the former, where I have re- 
sided ever since. 

When I reflect on the various scenes of life I came through during 
my captivity, methinks I see the hand of Providence, remarkably con- 
spicuous, throughout the whole. First, What but the hand of Providence 
directed them to take us alive, when our scalps might have answered 
the same purpose? or that they should, when apparently in danger, risk 
their lives by the incumbrance of us, by carrying us on their backs? 
Secondly, That they should not have drowned me outright, when they 
washed me in the Allegheny river ? Thirdly, That they took any care 
of me, when I was apparently on the point of death, by two severe fits 
of sickness ? Fourthly, That they should have taken any notice of me 
when I was, to all appearances, drowned at Shenango ? Nay, I have 
often thought that the hand of Providence guided me in making my 
escape from my father, as, in all probability, I would have been at the 
schoul where the master and scholars were murdered, as I had two cou- 
sins among the number, one of whom was scalped, and who, I believe, 
is yet alive ; or even when Mus-sooh-whese came to me, after he had 
murdered Green, with the bloody knife in his hand. I say, methinks I 
see the hand of Providence remarkably displayed throughout the whole. 

How often are we exposed to dangers, which we have neither had 
knowledge of nor power to prevent ? I could have related many dan- 
gers that I was exposed to during my captivity, which I have thought 
proper to omit in the foregoing narrative; as I am conscious that there 
are numbers, who never have had the trial of what they were able to 
undergo, would be ready to charge me with falsehood, as I have often 
observed what other narrators have met with. 



Captivity and Escape of the Bard Family. 225 



THE CAPTIVITY AND ESCAPE OF THE BARD FAMILY. 
Collected from his Papers by his Son, Archibald Bard. 

My father, Richard Bard, lived in York county, now Adams, and 
owned the mill now called Marshall's mill, in what is called Carroll's 
tract, where, on the morning of the 13th of April, 1758, his house was 
invested by a party of nineteen Indians. They were discovered by a 
little girl called Hannah M' Bride, who was at the door, and on seeing 
them, screamed, and ran into the house. At this time there were in the 
house, my father, mother, and Lieutenant Thomas Potter, (brother oi 
General Potter,) who had come the evening before, (being a full 
cousin,) together with a child of about six months old, and a bound boy, 
The Indians rushed into the house and one of them, with a large cut- 
lass in his hand, made a blow at Potter, but he so managed it as to 
wrest the sword from the Indian and return the blow, which would have 
put an end to his existence had not the point struck the ceiling, which 
turned the sword so as to cut the Indian's hand. 

In the meantime, Mr. Bard (my father) laid hold of a horseman's 
pistol that hung on a nail, and snapped it at the breast of one of the 
Indians, but there being tow in the pan it did not go off; at this the 
Indians, seeing the pistol, ran out of the house. By this time one of 
the Indians at the door had shot at Potter, but the ball took him only in 
the little finger. The door was now shut and secured as well as pos- 
sible ; but finding the Indians to be very numerous, and having no 
powder or ball, and as the savages might easily burn down the house 
bv reason of the thatched roof and the quantity of mill wood piled at 
the back of the building, added to the declarations of the Indians that 
they would not be put to death, determined them to surrender; on 
which a party of the Indians went to a field and made prisoners Samuel 
Hunter and Daniel M'Manimy. A lad by the name of William White, 
coming to the mill, was also made a prisoner. Having secured the 
prisoners, they took all the valuable effects out of the house and set fire 
to the mill. They then proceeded toward the mountain, and my 
mother, inquiring of the Indians who had care of her, was informed 
that they were of the Delaware nation. 

At the distance of about seventy rods from the house, contrary to all 
their promises, they put to death Thomas Potter, and having proceeded 
on the mountain about three or four miles, one of the Indians sunk the 
15 



226 Our Western Border. 

spear of his tomahawk into the breast of the small child, and after re 
peated blows, scalped it. After crossing the mountain, they passed the 

house of Mr. Halbert T , and seeing him out, shot at him, but 

without effect. Thence, passing late in the evening M' Cord's old fort, 
they encamped about half a mile in the gap. The second day, having 
passed into the Path valley, they discovered a party of white men in 
pursuit of them ; on which they ordered the prisoners to hasten, for 
should the whites come up with them, they should be all tomahawked, 
Having been thus hurried, they reached the top of the Tuskarora 
mountain, and all had set down to rest, when an Indian, without any 
previous warning, sunk a tomahawk into the forehead of Samuel Hunter, 
who was seated by my father, and by repeated blows put an end to 
his existence. He was then scalped, and the Indians, proceeding on 
their journey, encamped that evening some miles on the north of Side- 
ling Hill. 

The next day they marched over the Allegheny mountain, through 
what is now called Blair's gap. On the fifth day, whilst crossing Stony 
Creek, the wind blew a hat of my father's from the head of the Indian 
in whose custody he was. The Indian went down the stream some dis- 
tance before he recovered it. In the meantime my father had passed 
the creek, but when the Indian returned he severely beat my father 
with the gun, and almost disabled him from traveling any further. And 
now, reflecting that he could not possibly travel much further, and that, 
if this was the case, he would immediately be put to death, he deter- 
mined to attempt his escape that night. Two days before this, the half 
of my father's head was painted red. This denoted that a council had 
been held, and that an equal number were for putting him to death and 
for keeping him alive, and that another council was to have taken place 
to determine the question. Being encamped, my parents, who before 
this had not liberty to speak to one another, were permitted to assist 
each other in plucking a turkey, and being thus engaged, the design of 
escaping was communicated to my mother. After some of the Indians 
had laid down, and one of them was amusing the others with dressing 
himsell with a gown of my mother's, my father was called to go for 
water. He took a quart, and emptying it of the water it contained, stept 
about six rods down to the spring. My mother perceiving this, suc- 
ceeded so well in confining the attention of the Indians to the gown, 
that my father had got about one hundred yards, when the Indians from 
one fire cried to those of another — "your man is gone." 

They ran after him and one having brought back the quart, said: 
"here is the quart, but no many They spent two days in looking 
after him, while the prisoners were confined in the camp ; but after an 



Horrible Death by Torture. 227 

unsuccessful search, they proceeded down the stream to the Allegheny 
river, thence to Fort Duquesne, now Fort Pitt. After remaining there 
one night and a day, they went about twenty miles down the Ohio, to 
an Indian town, on entering which a squaw took a cap off my mother's 
head, and, with many others, severely beat her. Now, almost exhausted 
with fatigue, she requested leave to remain at this place, and was told 
she might, if she preferred being scalped to proceeding. They then 
took her to a town called Cususkey. On arriving at this place, Daniel 
M'Manimy was detained outside the town, but my mother, the two boys 
and girls, were taken into the town, at the same time having their hair 
pulled, faces scratched, and beaten in an unmerciful manner. 

Horrible Death by Torture of Daniel M'Manimy. 

Here I shall extract from my father's papers the manner and circum- 
stances of M'Manimy 's death. This account appears to have been ob- 
tained from my mother, shortly after her return, who received it from 
those who had been eye witnesses of the tragical scene. The Indians 
formed themselves into a circle round the prisoner, and commenced by 
beating him ; some with sticks, and some with tomahawks. He was 
then tied to a post near a large fire, and after being tortured some time 
with burning coals, they scalped him, and put the scalp on a pole to 
bleed before his face. A gun barrel was then heated red hot, and 
passed over his body, and with a red-hot bayonet they pierced his body, 
with many repetitions. In this manner they continued torturing him, 
singing and shouting, until he expired. Shortly after this, my mother 
set out from this place, leaving the two boys and girl, whom she never 
saw again until they were liberated. She was now distressed 
beyond measure ; going she knew not where, without a com- 
forter, without a companion, and expecting to share the fate of 
M'Manimy in the next town she would reach. In this distressed situa- 
tion she met a number of Indians, among whom was a captive woman. 
To her my mother made known her fears, on which she was informed 
that her life was not in danger, for that belt of wampum, said she, 
about your neck, is a certain sign that you are intended for an adopted 
relation. 

They soon after arrived at a town, and being taken into the council 
house, two squaws entered in — one stept up and struck my mother on 
the side of the head. Perceiving that the other was about to follow 
this example, she turned her head and received a second blow. The 
warriors were highly displeased at such acts in a council house, being 
contrary to usage. Here a chief took my mother by the hand, and de 



228 Our Western Border. 

livered her to two Indian men, to be in the place of a deceased sister. 
She was put in charge of a squaw in order to be cleanly clothed. She 
had remained here, with her adopted friends, near a month, when her 
party began to think of removing to the head waters of the Susquehanna, 
a journey of about two hundred miles. This was very painful to my 
mother, having already traveled about two hundred miles over moun- 
tains and swamps, until her feet and legs were extremely swollen and 
sore. Fortunately, on the day of their setting out, a horse was given 
to her by her adopted brother ; but before they had traveled far, one 
of the horses in the company died, when she was obliged to surrender 
hers to supply its place. After proceeding on her journey some miles, 
they were met by a number of Indians, one of whom told her not to be 
discouraged, as a peace was about to take place shortly, when she would 
have leave to return home. To this information she was the more dis- 
posed to give credit, as it came from one who was a chief counselor in 
the Delaware nation, with whom she was a prisoner. Having arrived 
near the end of her journey, to her great surprise, she saw a captive 
dead by the road side, having been tomahawked and scalped. She was 
informed that he had endeavored to escape, but was overtaken at this 
place. 

On arriving at the place of destination, having, in all, traveled near 
five hundred miles, the fatigue which she had undergone, with cold and 
hunger, brought on a severe fit of sickness, which lasted near two 
months. In this doleful situation, having no person to comfort or sym- 
pathize with her — a blanket was her only covering, and her bed was the 
cold earth, in a miserable cabin ; boiled corn was her only food — she 
was reduced to so weak a state as to consider herself as approaching the 
verge of dissolution. But, recovering from her sickness, she met with a 
woman with whom she had been formerly acquainted. This woman 
had been in captivity some years, and had an Indian husband by whom 
she had one child. My mother reproved her for this, but received for 
answer, that before she had consented, they had tied her to a stake in 
order to burn her. She added, that as soon as their captive women 
could speak the Indian tongue, they were obliged to marry some one of 
them or be put to death. This information induced her to determine 
never to learn the Indian language, and she adhered to this determina- 
tion all the time she remained with them, from the day of her captivity 
to that of her releasement, a space of two years and five months. She 
was treated during this time, by her adopted relations) with much kind- 
ness; even more than she had reason to expect. 

I shall now return to the narration of facts respecting my father, after 
he had made his escape from the Indians, as before stated. The In- 



Horrible Death by Torture. 229 

dians, as soon as he was missed, gave chase. Finding himself closely 
pursued, he hid in a hollow log until they had gone by and out of hear- 
ing, when, turning in a different direction, he resumed his flight. Two 
days, it has been said, were spent by the Indians in search of him ; in 
the meantime, with much fatigue and suffering, he came to a mountain 
four miles across, and at the top covered with snow. By this time he 
was almost exhausted, having traveled nearly constantly for two days 
and nights, and being without food, except a few buds plucked from 
the trees as he went along ; his shoes were worn out ; and the country 
he traveled through being extremely rough and in many places covered 
with briers of a poisonous nature, his feet were very much lacerated 
and swollen. To add to his difficulties, the mountain was overgrown 
with laurel, and the snow lodged upon its leaves so bent it down that he 
was unable in many places to get along in his weak condition, except 
by creeping upon his hands and knees under the branches. 

Three days had now elapsed since his escape; and although he feared 
that the Indians were still in pursuit of him, and that by traveling along 
the mountain they would find his tracks in the snow and by that means 
be led to his place of concealment, yet he found himself so lame that 
he could proceed no farther. His hands also, by crawling upon them 
in the snow, became almost as much swollen as his feet. He was there- 
fore compelled to lie by, without much prospect indeed of ever proceed- 
ing any farther on his journey. Besides the danger of being overtaken 
by his savage pursuers, he was, in fact, in a starving condition, not 
having tasted food since his escape, except the buds already mentioned, 
plucked, as he journeyed on, from the bean-wood, or red-bud tree, as it 
is called. On the fifth day, however, as he was creeping on his hands 
and knees (not being able yet to walk) in search of buds or herbs to 
appease his hunger, he was fortunate enough to see a rattlesnake, which 
he killed and ate raw. After lying* by three or four days, he allayed 
the swelling of his feet by puncturing the festered parts with a thorn ; 
he then tore up his breeches, and with the pieces bound up his feet as 
well as he could. Thus prepared, he again set out upon his journey, 
limping along with great pain ; but he had no other alternative, except 
to remain where he was and die. He had gone but a few miles when, 
from a hill he had just ascended, he was startled by the welcome sound 
of a drum ; he called as loud as he could, but there was no one to an- 
swer;' it was but a delusion of the imagination. Sad and disappointed, 
he journeyed on again, and on the eighth day crossed the Juniata by 
wading it, which, on account of his lameness, he accomplished with 
great difficulty. 

It was now night and very cold, and his clothes being wet he was so 



230 Our Western Border. 

benumbed that he was afraid to lie down lest he should perish; and he, 
therefore, lame and wearied as he was, determined to pursue his jour- 
ney, although it was very dark. Providential circumstance ! for in the 
course of the night, as he wandered on, he scarcely knew whither, he 
was attracted by the sight of a fire apparently abandoned the day be- 
fore, probably by a party of the settlers who were out in pursuit of the 
savages. Remaining here till morning, he discovered a path leading in 
the direction of the settlements, which he followed with as much speed 
as he was able. This was the ninth day since his escape, during which 
time a few buds and four snakes were all he had to subsist on. In the 
afternoon of this day he was alarmed by suddenly meeting at a turn' of 
his path three Indians ; but they proved friendly, and instead of killing 
him, as he expected when he first saw them, they conducted him in a 
few hours to Fort Littleton, (in Bedford county,) a place well known to 
him, where he remained a few days, until sufficiently recruited in 
strength to proceed home. 

Some time after my father's return home, he went to Fort Pitt, 
which was then in the hands of the English, and a number of Indians 
being on the opposite side of the river, about to form a treaty, he one 
evening went over to make inquiry concerning my mother. My father 
observed among them several who were present when he was taken 
prisoner ; to these he discovered himself. But they professed not to 
know him, on which he inquired of them if they did not recollect 
having been at the taking of nine persons, referring them to the time 
and place. They then acknowledged it, and inquired of him how he 
got home, &c. , after which he made inquiry concerning my mother, but 
they said they knew nothing of her, but promised to give him some in- 
formation by the time of his return the next day. He then returned 
to the fort. Shortly after this, a young man, who had been taken by 
the Indians when a child, followed him, and advised him not to return, 
for that when he had left them he had heard them say that they never 
had a stronger desire for anything than to have sunk the tomahawk into 
his head, and that they had agreed to kill him on his return next day. 
After this man had requested my father not to mention anything of his 
having been with him, or of the subject of their conversation, he returned 
to camp. 

I may here state that from the time that my father was taken by the 
Indians until my mother was released, he did little else than wander 
from place to place, in quest of information respecting her, and after he 
was informed where she was, his whole mind was bent upon contriving 
plans for her redemption. Desiring, with this view, to go again to 
Pittsburgh, he fell in with a brigade of wagons, commanded by Mr. 



Horrible Death by Torture. 231 

Irvine ; with them he proceeded as far as Bedford, but finding this a 
tedious way of traveling, he spoke to the commanding officer of the 
place to get Captain White Eyes, who commanded a party of Indians, 
to promise to accompany him to Pittsburgh. This was accordingly 
done, and the Indians having agreed to take him safe to Pitt, my father 
set out with them, having a horse and a new rifle. They had pro- 
ceeded but about two miles, when an Indian turned off the road and 
took up a scalp which that morning had been taken off one of the 
wagoners. This alarmed my father not a little ; but having proceeded 
about ten miles further, the Indians again turned off the road, and 
brought several horses and a keg of whiskey which had been concealed. 
Shortly after this, the Indians began to drink so as to become intoxi- 
cated. White Eyes then signified to my father that as he had ran off 
from them, he would then shoot him, and raised his gun to take aim ; 
but my father, stepping behind a tree, ran round it while the Indian 
followed. This for a time gave great amusement to the bystanders, 
until a young Indian stepped up, twisted the gun out of the hands of 
White Eyes, and hid it under a log. 

The Indians became considerably intoxicated, and scattered, leaving 
White Eyes with my father. White Eyes then made at him with a 
large stick, aiming at his head, but my father threw up his arm, and re- 
ceived so severe a blow as to blacken it for weeks. At this time an In- 
dian of another nation, who had been sent as an express to Bedford, 
came by. Captain White Eyes applied to him for his gun to shoot my 
father, but the Indian refused, as they were about making peace, and 
the killing of my father would bring on another war: (being of different 
nations they were obliged to speak in English.) By this time my father, 
finding himself in a desperate situation, resolved, at all events, to attempt 
an escape ; he said to Captain White Eyes, " our horses are going 
away," and went towards them, expecting every minute to receive a 
ball in his back, but coming up to his horse, he got on him and took to 
the road ; he had gone but a short distance when he saw the Indian 
who had taken the gun out of White Eyes' hand sleeping at a spring, 
and I have often heard him say had it been any of the other Indians he 
would have shot him. Fearing pursuit, he rode as fast as his horse 
could go, and, having traveled all night, he got to Pittsburgh the next 
morning shortly after sunrise, and he was not there more than three 
hours until the Indians were in after him : but from a fear of injury be- 
ing done my mother, should he kill them, he suppressed his anger, and 
passed the matter by. 

Here he had an opportunity of writing her a letter, requesting her to 
inform her adopted friends, that if they would bring her in, he would 



232 Our Western Border. 

pay them forty pounds. But having waited for an answer until he be- 
came impatient, he bargained with an Indian to go and steal her away. 
But the night before he was to start, he declined going, saying that he 
would be killed if he went. In this situation he resolved, at all hazards, 
to go himself and bring her; for which purpose he set out and went to 
a place on the Susquehanna; I think it was called Shamokin, not far 
from what is called the Big Cherry Trees. From here he set out on an 
Indian path, along which he traveled until evening, when he was met 
by a party of Indians who were bringing in my mother; the Indians 
passed him by, and raised the war halloo — my mother felt distressed at 
their situation, and my father, perceiving the Indians not to be in a 
good humor, began to promise them their pay, as he had promised them 
by letter, when they would come to Shamokin, but the Indians told 
him that if he got them among the whites he would then refuse to pay 
them, and that they would then have no redress; finding they were thus 
apprehensive, he told them to keep him as a hostage out in the woods 
and send his wife into town, and he would send an order for the money 
to be paid them, and that if it was not done they might do with him as 
they pleased. This had the desired effect. They got quite good hu- 
mored and brought them in, on doing which the money was paid agree- 
ably to promise., 

Before my father and mother left Shamokin, he requested an Indian 
who had been an adopted brother of my mother, if ever he came down 
amongst the white people to call and see him. Accordingly, some time 
afterwards the Indian paid him a visit, he living then about ten miles 
from Chambersburg. The Indian having continued for some time with 
him, went to a tavern, known by the name of McCormack's, and there 
became somewhat intoxicated, when a certain Newgen, (since executed 
in Carlisle for stealing horses,) having a large knife in his hand, struck 
it into the Indian's neck, edge foremost, designing thereby to thrust it 
between the bone and throat, and by drawing it forwards to cut his 
throat, but he partly missed his aim, and only cut the forepart of the 
windpipe. On this Newgen had to escape from justice; otherwise the 
law would have been put in force against him. And it has been re- 
marked, that ever after he continued to progress in vice until his death. 
A physician was brought to attend the Indian; the wound was sewed 
up, and he continued at my father's house until he had recovered, when 
he returned to his own people, who put him to death, on the pretext of 
his having, as they said, joined the white people. 

In August, 1764, (according to the best accounts of the time,) my 
father and his family, from fear of the Indians, having moved to my 
grandfather Thomas Poe's, about three miles from his own place, he took 



Horrible Death by Torture. 233 

a black girl with him to his own place to make some hay — and being 
there at his work, a dog which he had with him began to bark and run 
towards and from a thicket of bushes. Observing these circumstances 
he became alarmed, and, taking up his gun, told the girl to run to the 
house, as he believed there were Indians near. So they made toward 
the house, and had not been there more than an hour, when from the 
loft of the house they saw a party, commanded by Captain Potter, late 
General Potter, in pursuit of a party of Indians who had that morning 
murdered a school master of the name of Brown, with ten small chil- 
dren, and scalped and left for dead one by the name of Archibald 
McCullough, who recovered and was living not long since. It was re- 
markable that, with but few exceptions, the scholars were much averse to 
going to school that morning. And the account given by McCullough 
is, that when the master and scholars met at the school, two of the 
scholars informed him that on their way they had seen Indians, but the 
information was not attended to by the master, who ordered them to 
their books; soon afterwards two old Indians and a boy rushed up to 
the door. The master, seeing them, prayed them only to take his life 
and spare the children; but, unfeelingly, the two old Indians stood at the 
door whilst the boy entered the house and, with a piece of wood made 
in the form of an Indian maul, killed the master and scholars, after 
which the whole of them were scalped. 



234 Our Western Border. 



ORIGIN OF THE INDIAN TERM « LONG-KNIVES." - 

Some years after the old French war, several settlers at the mouth of 
Decker's Creek, on the Monongahela, were cut off by a party of Dela- 
wares. Of these was Thomas Decker himself. But two or three of 
the settlers escaped, and one of these, making his way to Redstone, 
(Brownsville, Pa.,) gave information of the massacre. Captain Paull, 
of that post, sent a runner to Fort Pitt with full news of the Indian 
foray, and notifying Colonel Gibson of the probable line of retreat of 
the savages. Gibson proceeded down the river with the hope of inter- 
cepting them, and happened accidentally upon a small party of Iroquois 
or Mingoes, encamped on Cross Creek, and under command of a prom- 
inent chief by the name of Little Eagle. Discovering the whites about 
the same moment that they saw him, he gave a frightful yell and disr 
charged his piece at the white leader. The ball passed through the 
Colonel's coat but did no other injury. With the quickness of the 
crouching panther, Gibson sprang upon his swarthy foe, and with one 
dexterous and powerful sweep of his sword, severed the head of Little 
Eagle from his shoulders. 

Two others were shot dead by the whites, but the rest escaped and re- 
ported to their tribes that a white officer had cut off the head of their 
chief with a long knife. This is said to have been the origin of the 
epithet " long-knives," applied throughout the Indian wars to the Vir- 
ginians, and afterwards used generally to denote all the "pale faces" 
on the Western Border. Gibson, himself a Virginian, then acquired 
among the Ohio Indians the sobriquet of " Long-Knife Warrior," and 
was known by it all his life afterwards. 



JOHN HARRIS, THE FOUNDER OF HARRISBURG, PA. 

"John Harris' Ferry," over the Susquehanna, was a frontier locality 
so well known before the Revolution to the whole country that its fame 
far excelled posts of much greater pretension and was even widely 
known abroad. It was quite common for letters from England, Ireland 
and Scotland to be addressed, " Care of John Harris, Harris' Ferry, 
North America." 



John Harris, the Founder of Harrisburg, Pa. 235 

The first John Harris was a Yorkshireman, who married in Philadel 
phia an Englishwoman of great energy and force of character, Esther 
Say by name, and who settled on the Susquehanna about 1724. Here 
was born, in 1726, the son, John Harris, the founder of Harrisburg, and 
said to have been the first white child born in Pennsylvania, west of the 
Conewago Hills. 

A number of Indian villages were then scattered along the Susque- 
hanna and Juniata rivers, and Harris, Sr., soon became an extensive 
trader, having connected with his cabin a large range of sheds, which 
were sometimes literally filled with skins and furs, stored there by the 
various Indian traders from the west and which were transported to 
Philadelphia on pack-horses. In the words of the memorable Parson 
Elder, he was as " honest a man as ever broke bread." 

On one occasion a wandering band of Indians came to his house and 
demanded rum, as the modern whiskey was not then made in Pennsyl- 
vania. Seeing they were already intoxicated and fearing mischief, 
Harris refused. At this they became furious, seized and tied him to a 
mulberry tree to burn him. He was released by other friendly Indians 
coming across the river to his relief. In remembrance of this, he 
directed his body to be buried beneath that tree. He died in 1748, 
and his remains still repose at the roots of this famous mulberry, the 
stump of which is said to be still standing. 

Of Esther, Harris' wife, several characteristic anecdotes are told. 
Here is one : The mansion was surrounded by a stockade as security 
against Indians. A British officer was one night staying at the house^ 
when, by accident, the gate of the stockade was left unfastened. The 
officer, dressed in full regimentals, was seated with Harris and wife at 
the table. An Indian stealthily entered the gate, thrust his rifle through 
one of the port holes and fired away — it is supposed at the officer. The 
night being damp, the gun only flashed. Instantly Mrs. Harris blew 
out the candle to prevent a second aim and thus saved a human life. 

John Harris, Jr., became a large farmer and trader; was a man of 
great energy and enterprise, and had an extensive western acquaint- 
ance. It was during his life that the ferry became so well known. He 
owned the ground on which Harrisburg now stands. When the Revo- 
lution broke out, he thought a Declaration of Independence premature, 
fearing that the colonies could not cope with the mother country, but 
after it was once declared, he took his wife and son aside and read it 
aloud, saying, "The act is now done and we must take sides. The 
war cannot be carried on without money. Now, we have ^£3000 in the 
house and, if you are agreed, I will take it to Philadelphia and put it in 
the treasury to carry on the war. If we succeed in obtaining an inde- 



23G Our Western Border. 

pendence, we may lose our money — as the government may not be able 
to pay it back — but we will get our land." It was done and Harris 
died a rich man. 



DR. BENJAMIN FRANKLIN AS A COMMANDER. 

It is not generally known that during the Indian ravages consequent 
upon Braddock's defeat, the learned and amiable philosopher and states- 
man, Dr. Franklin, did service as a military officer and was sent to 
Northwestern Pennsylvania to establish a line of forts. He says he 
undertook this military business, although he did not conceive himself 
well qualified for it. "I had but little difficulty," he writes, " in rais- 
ing men, having soon five hundred and sixty under my command. My 
son, who had seen service, was my aid-de-camp and of great value to 
me. The Indians had burned Gnadenhutten, a village settled by the 
Moravians, and massacred the inhabitants. It was January, 1756, when 
we set out upon this business of building forts. We had not marched 
many miles before it began to rain and continued all day. There were 
no habitations on the road till we arrived, at night, at a German's house, 
where, and in his barn, we were all huddled together as wet as water 
could make us. It was well we were not attacked, for our arms were 
of the most ordinary sort and our men could not keep the locks dry. 
The Indians are dexterous in contrivances for that purpose, for they 
met that day eleven farmers and killed ten of them ; the one that 
escaped told us that the guns would not go off, the priming being wet. 

"At Gnadenhutten we hutted ourselves and commenced burying the 
dead. Next morning our fort (Fort Allen) was planned and was 
finished in a week. However contemptible, it was a sufficient defence 
against Indians without cannon. We met no Indians, but found the 
places where they lay to watch us. There was an art in their contri- 
vances worth mentioning. It being Winter, fire was necessary for them, 
but a common fire would have betrayed by its light and smoke ; they 
had, therefore, dug holes about three feet in diameter and somewhat 
deeper. We found where they had, with their hatchets cut off the char- 
coal from the sides of burnt logs lying in the woods. With these coals 
they had made small fires in the bottoms of the holes, and we observed 
among the weeds and grass the prints of their bodies, made by their 
lying all round, with their legs hanging down in the holes to keep their 
feet dry and warm, which, with them, is an essential point. This kind 
of fire could not reveal them by its light, flame, sparks or even smoke. 



CONRADE WEISER AND THE ONONDAGA CHIEF. 237 

"We had for our chaplain a zealous Presbyterian minister, Mr. Beatty, 
who complained to me that the men would not attend his prayers and 
Exhortations. I had observed that they were punctual at their rum 
rations, half a gill morning and evening, upon which I said : It is, 
perhaps, below the dignity of your profession to act as steward of the 
rum, but if you were to distribute it only just after prayers, you would 
have them all about you. He liked the thought, undertook the task, 
and never were prayers more generally or punctually attended.'' 



CONRADE WEISER AND THE ONONDAGA CHIEF. 

For near thirty years Conrade Weiser was a very prominent man in 
Pennsylvania. During that period his name occurs in the Colonial 
Records oftener than that of any other. He came to this country early 
in life and lived most of his time after 1714 among the Six Nations of 
New York. He was so greatly esteemed by them as to be adopted into 
their tribes, and thus he became perfectly familiar with their language. 
Desiring to visit Pennsylvania, the Indians brought him down the Sus- 
quehanna to Harris' Ferry, (now Harrisburg,) and thence he found his 
way to Philadelphia, where he met Wm. Penn. He soon became con- 
fidential messenger and interpreter for the colony among the savages, 
and was an active agent in many of the most important treaties. In 
'37 he was sent by the Colony of Virginia to visit the grand Six-Na- 
tion's council at Onondaga. He started in the dead of Winter, ac- 
companied by a German and three friendly Indians, five hundred miles 
through a pathless wilderness, and was nearly frozen and starved to 
death. 

In '44 he was in like manner dispatched to Shamokin. On all these 
journeys he noted down interesting observations, and it is from his pub- 
lished letters in the State Records that we glean most valuable informa- 
tion about early Indian doings and sentiment. He afterwards estab- 
lished an Indian agency and trading house at Reading, Pa., but was 
kept so constantly on the go that he had but little time to attend to 
private affairs. In '55, during the border war, he was appointed Col- 
onel of a regiment of Rangers and did good service. The Indians al- 
ways entertained a high respect for his character, and for years after his 
death were in the habit of making visits of affectionate remembrance 
to his grave. „ The Rev. Henry A. Muhlenberg was his grandson. 

Dr. Franklin relates that Conrade Weiser told him the following : In 



238 Our Western Border. 

going through the Six-Nation country to carry a message from Penn- 
sylvania, he called at the cabin of Cannassatego, an influential old Onon- 
daga Chief, who embraced him, spread furs for him, placed before him 
beans and venison and some rum and water. When he was well refreshed, 
Cannassatego asked him many questions, and when the discourse began 
to flag, the old chief said : "Conrade, you have lived long among the 
white people and know something of their customs ; I have been some- 
times at Albany and have observed that once in seven days they shut 
up their shops and assemble in a great house. Tell me what they do 
there?" "They meet there," replied Weiser, "to hear and learn good 
things." 

"I do not doubt that they tell you so, Conrade, they have told me 
the same; but I do doubt the truth of what they say, and I will give 
you my reasons. I went lately to Albany to sell my skins and buy rum, 
powder, blankets, &c. You know I used generally to deal with Hans 
Hanson, but I was a little minded this time to try some one else. How- 
ever, I called first upon Hans and asked how much for beaver. He 
said he could not give more than four shillings a pound, but, says he, I 
cannot talk on business now ; this is the day we meet to learn good 
things. So I thought to myself if I cannot do any business I might as 
well go to meeting too, and I went with Hans. There stood up a man 
in black and began to talk to the people very angrily. I didn't under- 
stand what he said, but perceiving he looked much at Hans and me, I 
fancied he was angry at seeing me there ; so I went out, sat down near 
the big house, struck a fire and lit my pipe. I thought, too, the man had 
said something about beaver, so when they came out I said, ' Well, 
Hans, I hope you have agreed to give more than four shillings per 
pound for beaver pelts? ' ' No,' said he, 'I cannot give so much — not 
more than three and six.' I then spoke to several more, but they all 
sang the same song — three and six, three and six, three and six. This 
made it clear to me that my suspicion was right, and that whatever they 
said they met for, the real business was to learn how to cheat the In- 
dians in the price of beaver. 

"Consider but a little, Conrade, and you must think with me. If they 
met so often to learn good things, they would have learned some be- 
fore this, but they are still ignorant. You know our practice. If a white 
man travels our way and enters our cabin, we all treat him as I now 
treat you — dry him if he's wet, warm him if he's cold, give him meat and 
drink and spread soft furs for him to sleep on, and we ask nothing in 
return. But if I go into a white man's house in Albany and ask for 
meat and drink they say, ' Get out, you Injun dog.' So you see they 
have not yet learned those little good things which our mothers have 



Border Forts, Stations and Block-Houses. 239 

taught us. Depend upon it, Weiser, these meetings are held to help 
cheat the Indians in beaver skins." 

We may as well present here another characteristic speech of Cannas- 
satego, also given by Franklin. At the very large and important coun- 
cil held at Lancaster in 1 744, at which two hundred and fifty chiefs and 
warriors were present, this Onondaga Chief was the great orator. 
When the main business was all satisfactorily finished, an invitation was 
extended to the chiefs by the Commissioner of Virginia to send some of 
their youth there to be educated. To this Cannassatego replied : 

"Brother, we must let you know that we love our children too well to 
send them so great a way. We thank you for the invitation, but our 
customs being different from yours, you must excuse us. We have had 
some experience in this. Several of our young people were formerly 
brought up at northern colleges. They were instructed in all your 
sciences, but when they came back to us, they were bad runners ; igno- 
rant of every means of living in the woods ; unable to bear either cold 
or hunger 3 knew neither how to build a cabin or take a deer or kill an 
enemy ; spoke our language badly ; were, therefore, neither fit for hunt- 
ers, warriors or counselors — they were totally good for nothing. To 
show, however, that we are grateful for your offer, if the gentlemen 
from Virginia will send us a dozen of their sons, we will teach them all 
we know and make men of them." 



BORDER FORTS, STATIONS AND BLOCK-HOUSES. 

Constant reference is made throughout all border chronicles to forts 
and to settlers fleeing to them for refuge. These were not only places 
of defence but places of residence of families belonging to a neighbor- 
hood. As Indian warfare consisted in an indiscriminate slaughter of all 
ages and both sexes, it was as requisite to provide for the safety of 
women and children as well as for the men. A fort, according to Dod- 
dridge, consisted of cabins, block-houses and stockades. A range of 
cabins, separated by divisions of logs, commonly formed one side, at 
least, of the fort. The walls on the outside were ten or twelve feet 
high, the slope of the roof being turned wholly inward. Very few of 
the cabins had puncheon floors, but nearly all earthen. 

The block-houses were built at the angles of the fort, projecting about 
two feet beyond the outer walls of the cabins and stockades. Their 
upper stories were about eighteen inches every way larger in dimension 
than the under ones, so as to allow the occupants to fire straight down 



240 Our Western Border. 

and prevent the enemy from making a lodgment under their walls. In 
some forts, instead of block-houses, the angles were furnished with bas- 
tions. A large folding gate, made of thick slabs and situated nearest 
the spring, served to close or open the fort. The stockade, bastion, 
cabins and block-house walls were furnished with port holes at proper 
heights and distances. The whole of the outside was made completely 
bullet-proof. 

It may be truly said that " necessity is the mother of invention," for 
the whole of this work was made without the aid of a single nail or 
spike of iron ; and for this reason : such things were not to be had. In 
some places, less exposed, a single block -house, with a cabin or two, 
constituted the whole fort. 

Such refuges may appear very trifling compared with formidable 
military garrisons, but they answered the purpose admirably, since 
Indians had no artillery and seldom attacked, and scarcely ever took 
one of them. The families belonging to these forts were so attached to 
their own cabins on their farms, that they seldom moved into their forts 
in the Spring until compelled by some alarm ; that is, when it was an- 
nounced by some murder that the savages were hovering about the set- 
tlement. 

Doddridge in the above is scarcely explicit enough. De Hass supple- 
ments the information and draws a closer distinction between the various 
places of defence in times of Indian hostilities. A fort was generally 
a stockade enclosure, embracing cabins, &c, for the accommodation of 
several families, with, generally, block-houses on two or on all four of its 
corners. A station was a parallelogram of cabins, united by palisades, 
so as to present a continued wall on the outer side, the cabin doors 
opening into a common square on the inner side. A block -house was a 
square, double -storied structure, the upper story projecting over the 
lower about two feet, which space was left so that the inmates could 
shoot from above upon an enemy attempting to fire or climb its walls. 
But one door opened into these rude buildings, and that was always very 
strong, so as to defy entrance by any ordinary means of assault. They 
were generally considered the safest for a small number. The men 
generally remained above, and many are the tales of border war wherein 
a few determined spirits successfully withstood the combined and per- 
sistent attacks of hundreds of Indians. 



A Singular Will Case on the Border. 241 



A SINGULAR WILL CASE ON THE BORDER. 

As illustrative of the peculiar results arising from carrying children 
into captivity, we may mention the famous Grey Property Case, which 
was in controversy for about fifty years before the various Pennsylvania 
courts, and which was noted for many amusing scenes and the marked 
originality of many of the principal personages therewith connected. 

Robert Hagg, Samuel Bingham, James and John Grey, were the first 
four settlers in Tuscarora valley, Pa., arriving there in 1749, and build- 
ing Bingham's Fort. In '56, the year after Braddock's defeat, John 
Grey went with pack-horses to Carlisle to procure salt. As Grey was 
returning a bear crossed his path, which so frightened his horse that he 
was thrown and severely injured. This delay brought him back to Fort 
Bingham just after it was burned and every person either killed or made 
prisoner, including his wife and only daughter, three years old. The 
unhappy husband and father then joined Colonel Armstrong's expedition 
against Kittanning, in the hope of hearing of the fate of his family, but 
returned in such bad health that he died soon after, leaving by will his 
wife one-half and his daughter the other half of his fine farm, if they 
ever returned from captivity. If his daughter did not return or was 
not alive, he willed the second half to his sister, on condition of her re- 
leasing a claim she held against him. 

In the meantime, Mrs. Grey and child, and other captives taken at 
Fort Bingham, were carried to Kittanning and afterwards to the French 
Fort Duquesne, and thence to Canada. About a year after, Mrs. Grey 
concealed herself among some deer skins in the wagon of a white trader 
and was brought off, leaving her little daughter in captivity. She re- 
turned home, proved her husband's will, and took possession of her 
half of the property. She afterwards married a Mr. Williams, but had 
no issue. In '64, some seven years after her escape, a number of the 
captive children, recovered by Colonel Bouquet, were taken to Phila- 
delphia to be recognized. Mrs. Grey attended, but no child appeared 
that she recognized as her dear little Jenny. There was one there, 
however, unclaimed, of about the same age. Some one, conversant 
with the terms of Grey's will, whispered to the mother to claim this 
child for the purpose of holding the other half of the property. She 
did so — took back the child and brought her up as her own. 

Time wore away, and the girl grew up gross and ugly in her person, 
awkward in her manners, and, as subsequent events proved, loose in 
16 



242 Our Western Border. 

her morals. Notwithstanding all these drawbacks, however, she con- 
trived to captivate a Mr. Gillespie, who married her. The property 
then went over, by purchase or gift, to Rev. McKee, and then to his 
nephew. After a lapse of many years, the children of James Grey, 
heirs of John Grey's sister, got hold of information leading them to 
doubt the identity of the returned captive, and a law suit was brought 
about in 1789. It would literally puzzle a " Philadelphia lawyer" to 
describe the multiform and complicated phases which the case assumed 
during a legal contest of more than fifty years. There were many 
families interested, as also many prominent lawyers. 

Mrs. Grey (or Mrs. Williams) said that when they were crossing Side- 
ling Hill, she had examined the child Jane and found a mark by which 
she was able to recognize her. A Mr. Innis, one of the captives with 
her, testified that he one day chided Mrs. Williams for keeping a child 
not her own. " You know why I keep this girl," she answered. Mrs. 
Innis had herself lost three children, and told Mrs. W. that the child 
was not hers, but was a German girl, and could not talk English when she 
came to Montreal. Mrs. W., one witness testified, said, " No, that is not 
my daughter, but Woods knows where my daughter is, and has promised 
to get her." The real daughter was never recovered. Woods testified 
that he had been told by Indians that the real Jenny Grey was a fine, 
big girl, and lived near Sir William Johnson's, in the Mohawk valley, 
which information he had given to Mrs. Grey, the mother; that George 
Croghan, the famous Indian agent, had told him since and asserted 
that he procured the child, Jenny Grey, from the Indians, and had put 
her into a good family to be brought up. Finally the Indian, Hutson, 
came to Woods' house and asserted that little Jenny was now a fine 
woman, had a large house and children, and lived near Sir William 
Johnson's seat, in New York State. 

Old Mrs. McKee, who spoke with a rich Irish brogue, was the prin- 
cipal living witness, and frequently convulsed the court by entering 
largely— much too largely — into the early history of the valley. She 
described the spurious girl as "a big, black, ugly Dutch lump, and not 
to be compared to the beautiful Jennie Grey." Her historical revelations 
so interested one of the jurymen, himself an old settler, that he sent for 
the old lady to come to the hotel and enter more at large into "the days 
of Auld Lang Syne." The old man was a little deaf, and Mrs. McKee's 
voice so loud and shrill that one of the opposing counsel overheard the 
old lady, and next day ludicrously exposed the poor juryman amidst the 
roars of the court and bar. The case, of course, had to be then tried be- 
fore another jury, but was finally decided, in 1833, against the identity of 
the adopted child, and the property vested accordingly. 



Sir William Johnson, Baronet. 243 



SIR WILLIAM JOHNSON, BARONET. 
"A Fine Old Irish Gentleman, all of the Olden Time." 

The battle of Lexington, which inaugurated the American Revolu- 
tion, took place April 19th, 1775, but still the late peace effected with the 
Ohio tribes by Lord Dunmore continued during most of that year. Occa- 
sionally there were ominous symptoms that the savages were being tam- 
pered with by English agents, and the frontiers were kept very anxious 
for fear there should be a general alliance between the British and the 
confederated western tribes. The action and policy, therefore, of Col- 
onel Guy Johnson, son-in-law of and successor to Sir William Johnson, 
General Superintendent of Indian Affairs, was narrowly watched, and 
gave much reason for alarm. Colonel Guy, Colonel Claus, Sir John 
Johnson and Joseph Brant, the celebrated Mohawk Chief, were all loyal 
to the core, and were using their strongest efforts to array the power- 
ful Six Nations actively on the same side. Sir William Johnson, Baro- 
net, had died in July, 1774, and it is high time we should give a sketch 
of a distinguished man, who had for so many years exercised such an 
almost omnipotent sway over American-Indian tribes. He was truly a 
most remarkable character, whose whole life was a romance, and crowded 
with interesting personal adventure. 

Coming to America from Ireland while a young man, under the 
auspices of his uncle, Admiral Sir Peter Warren, he threw himself boldly 
into the wilderness, and, with but little assistance, became the architect 
of his own fame and fortune. From the humble position as agent of the 
landed property of his uncle, he was, successively, a farmer, dealer in 
peltries, a merchant, government contractor, a successful general, a Bar- 
onet of the British realm, and, for over a score of years, the Chief Su- 
perintendent of Indian Affairs on this continent, possessing more in- 
fluence among the Indian tribes from the Hudson to the Mississippi, 
than any one man either before or since. 

In vpfs such were his abilities and his commanding power over the 
redmen of the forest, that to him was entrusted, with the rank of Ma- 
jor General, the task of capturing Crown Point. At the same time he 
was appointed Superintendent of Indian Affairs. He fought soon after 
a decisive action with Baron Dieskau and defeated him badly, which 
victory was the only one during the whole year's campaign, and was so 
greatly esteemed by King George that he created Johnson a Baronet, 



244 Our Western Border. 

while the Parliament presented him with five thousand pounds. In '58 
he, by his intimate acquaintance with the temper of the Indians and by 
his wonderful influence over them, effected a peace with fifteen differ- 
ent tribes. In '59 he defeated the French army under D' Aubrey, and 
captured Fort Niagara. In '60 he assisted at the capture of Montreal, 
since which time he acted as Indian Superintendent. 

It was among the Six Nations, however, that he ruled supreme, hav- 
ing a far larger authority over them than any of their own sachems. 
He was well calculated to conciliate and retain the affections of these 
warlike tribes. In person he was an uncommonly tall, well-made man, 
having a fine countenance and an imposing address. He was likewise 
shrewd, sagacious and possessed a most intimate knowledge of Indian 
tastes, customs and languages, and therefore knew best how to please the 
xedmen. He purchased from the Indians a large and fertile tract of 
land upon the Mohawk river, where, having cleared the ground, he built 
two spacious and stately places of residence, known afterwards over all 
the country by the names of Johnson Castle and Johnson Hall. The 
first was on the Mohawk river and slightly fortified. The last was built 
on a gentle eminence, environed by most fertile and delightful plains, 
with an ample and well-cultivated domain, and that again encircled by 
European settlers who had first gone there as architects or workmen, 
but who had been induced, by Sir William's liberality or the singular 
beauty of the district, to remain. His trade with the Six Nations was 
very much to their as well as his own advantage, he supplying them on 
more equitable terms than any trader, and not indulging them in strong 
liquors which others were accustomed to do. The Castle contained the 
stores in which all goods meant for the Indian traffic were laid up and 
the peltries received in exchange. The Hall was his Summer residence, 
around which his chief improvements were laid. 

"Here," wrote Mrs. Grant, a Scotch lady who visited Sir William, 
and published her travels, "this singular man lived like a little sover- 
eign ; kept a most bountiful table for strangers and officers, and, by 
confiding entirely in the Indians, and treating them with unvarying 
truth and justice, without ever yielding to solicitation what he had once 
refused, he taught them to repose entire confidence in him. He, in his 
turn, became attached to them ; wore, in Winter, almost entirely their 
dress and ornaments, and contracted a kind of alliance with them; for, 
becoming a widower in the prime of life, he had connected himself with 
an Indian maiden, (daughter of a sachem,) who possessed an uncom- 
monly agreeable person and good understanding; and whether ever 
formally married to him or not, according to our usage, contrived to live 
with him in great union and affection all his life. 



Peculiar Education of Sir William's Two Daughters. 245 

"So perfect was his dependence on these people that when they re- 
turned from their Summer excursions and exchanged their pelts for fire- 
arms, &c, they used to pass a few days at the Castle, when his family 
and most of his domestics were down at the Hall. There they were all 
liberally entertained by their friend, and five hundred of them have 
been known, for nights together, after drinking pretty freely, to lie 
around him on the floor, while he was the only white person in a house 
containing great quantities' of everything that was to them valuable or 
desirable." 

The Peculiar Education of Sir William's Two Daughters. 

"While Sir William thus united in his mode of life the calm urbanity 
of a liberal and extensive trader with the splendid hospitality, the 
numerous attendance and the plain, though dignified, manners of an 
ancient baron, the female part of his family were educated in a manner 
so entirely dissimilar from that of all other young people of their sex 
and station, that as a matter of curiosity it is worthy a recital. These 
two young ladies, his daughters, inherited, in a great measure, the per- 
sonal advantages and strength of understanding for which their father 
was so distinguished. Their mother dying when they were very young, 
bequeathed the care of them to a friend, the widow of an officer who 
had fallen in battle. I am not sure whether this widow was devout and 
shunned the world for fear of its pollutions, or whether romantic, and 
so despised its selfish, bustling spirit; but so it was, that she seemed 
utterly to forget it, and to devote herself to her fair pupils. To these 
she taught needle-work of the most elegant and ingenious kinds ; also 
reading and writing, and thus quietly passed their childhood, their mis- 
tress not taking the smallest concern in family management, nor, in- 
deed, the least interest in any worldly thing but themselves. Far less 
did she inquire about the fashions or diversions which prevailed in a 
world that she had renounced, and from which she wished to see her 
pupils forever estranged. 

" Never was anything so uniform as their dress, their occupations, 
and the general tenor of their lives. In the morning they rose early, 
read their prayer book, I believe, but certainly their Bible ; fed their 
birds; tended their flowers, and breakfasted. Then they were employed 
for some hours, with unwearied perseverance, at fine needle-work on the 
ornamental parts of dress which were the fashion of the day, without 
knowing to what use these were to be put, since they never wore them. 
They had not, at the age of sixteen, ever seen a lady excepting each 
other and their governess. They then read as long as they chose, 



246 Our Western Border. 

either the voluminous romances of the last century, of which their 
friend had an ample collection, or Rollins' Ancient History, the only 
books they had ever seen. After dinner they regularly, in Summer, 
took a long walk, or, in Winter, an excursion in the sledge with their 
friend. They then returned and resumed their wonted occupations, 
with the sole variation of a stroll in the garden in Summer and a game 
of chess or shuttle-cock in Winter. 

" Their dress was to the full as simple and uniform as everything else ; 
they wore wrappers of the finest chintz and green silk petticoats, and 
this the whole year round without variation. Their hair, which was 
long and beautiful, was tied behind with a simple ribbon ; a large calash 
shaded each from the sun, and in Winter they had long scarlet mantles 
that covered them from head to foot. Their father did not live with 
them, but visited them every day in their apartments. This innocent 
and uniform life they led till the death of their monitress, which hap- 
pened when the eldest was not quite seventeen. On some future occa- 
sion I shall satisfy the curiosity which this short but faithful account of 
these amiable recluses has possibly excited." 

Mrs. Grant, so far as we can learn, never did satisfy curiosity about 
these "amiable recluses," and we beg to supplement her story by jot- 
ting down a few facts from Sir William's life. She never mentions a son 
John, who was the eldest of his three children, and who afterwards in- 
herited his father's title and estate and became one of the most bitter 
and destructive tories during our Revolution. The mother was a plain 
but sensible German girl, of no social standing and but little education, 
Catharine Weisenberg by name, and was married to Sir William about 
the year 1740. When she died is not known, but it is thought it was 
about 1745. The two " recluses," mentioned by Mrs. Grant, were 
named Mary and Nancy. In 1763, the former and younger was mar- 
ried to Guy Johnson, her cousin, and for some time the private secre- 
tary of his uncle. Shortly after, Nancy married Colonel Claus. 

Two spacious stone houses, each surrounded by an extensive domain, 
were built for these sons-in-law of Sir William in 1766. Both after be- 
came famous tories during the Revolution, and by means of their long 
acquaintance and large influence over the Six Nations were enabled to 
do great mischief. They afterwards (as did Sir John Johnson) removed 
to Canada and were gifted by the crown with large possessions, to com- 
pensate them for their immense landed property which was confiscated 
at the outbreak of the Revolution. 



Sir William Marries an Indian Maiden. 247 



Sir William Marries Molly Brant, an Indian Maiden. 

It was somewhere about 1 748 that Sir William took up with Molly 
Brant, sister to the far-famed war chief, Joseph Brant, (Thayendanegea 
of the Revolution,) and the Indian maiden, who possessed an "uncom- 
monly agreeable person and good understanding," as mentioned by Mrs. 
Grant. With her as his Indian wife, united according to the custom of 
the tribes, Sir William livecl in great harmony and affection till his death, 
always treating her with respect and consideration, of which, according 
to all accounts, she was well worthy. Sir William had by her no less 
than eight children, to each of whom, as well as to the mother, he be- 
queathed, by will, generous sums of money and large tracts of land. 
Most of them migrated to Canada at the time of our Revolution, and 
their descendants are among the most respectable persons of that pro- 
vince. . 

Sir William's love for Miss Molly, as she was generally called, had a 
rather wild and romantic commencement. The story runs that she was 
born in Ohio, and that her mother had moved back to the Mohawk 
valley, with her and her brother Joseph. It was at a regimental militia 
muster that the Baronet first saw her, at which time she was a wild, 
laughing, beautiful girl of about sixteen. She, on this occasion, made 
one of a multitude of spectators, mainly Indians. One of the field offi- 
cers passing by her on his prancing steed, by way of banter, she laugh- 
ingly asked permission to mount behind him. Not for one moment 
supposing she could perform the exploit, he said she might. At the 
word she leaped upon the crupper with the agility of a gazelle. The 
horse sprang off at full speed, and, clinging to the officer, her gay- 
colored blanket flying and her raven tresses streaming to the wind, she 
flew about the parade ground swift as an arrow, to the infinite merri- 
ment of the onlooking throng. The Colonel, (for he had not at that 
time been titled, and was little over thirty years old,) who was a witness 
of the entertaining spectacle, so admired the spirit of the young squaw, 
and became so enamored of her person, that he at once took her to his 
house and made her its keeper. 

Sir William Johnson died July nth, 1774. It has been asserted, and 
largely believed, that his end was greatly hastened, if not caused, by the 
worries and perplexities occasioned by the approaching Revolution. 
There can be no doubt but that this royal beneficiary had many serious 
troubles of mind regarding the conflicts and growing discontents be- 
tween the colonists and the mother country, but it is a grave error to 
conclude for certain that had he lived another year, he would have 



248 Our Western Border.. 

espoused the cause of the crown. Many remarks he made, and parts of 
his letters written during these preliminary troubles, show that he con- 
demned England for some of her acts toward this country, and that he 
sympathized with Americans in many of their grievances. That he per- 
ished by his own hand in consequence of the clouds that were then 
darkening the political sky, or immediately after having received dis- 
patches from England instructing him, in the event of hostilities, to use 
his influence with the Indians on behalf of the crown — and both these 
assertions have diligently been circulated — has not one tittle of evidence 
to support them. His demise occurred from entirely natural causes. 
For many years he was subject to alarming attacks of illness of a dys- 
enteric character, which often prostrated him on his bed for weeks to- 
gether. Even so far back as 1767 he had been induced by his faithful 
Mohawks to. visit a medicinal spring whose healing waters had long had 
great repute among the tribes. Accompanied by Indian guides, and borne 
on a rude Indian litter, he proceeded through the wilderness to Saratoga 
Lake, and thence to what is now known as Cliff Rock Spring. Close 
to this healing fountain, in a rough bower of bark and boughs, reclined 
the first white man that is known to have visited the now world-famous 
Saratoga Springs. He was soon called away, however, on business, but 
short as his sojourn was there, such was the benefit derived, that he was 
enabled to travel part of the way back on foot. 

The closing scenes of the English Baronet's days were in harmony 
with all his previous life and have much in them of the touching and 
picturesque. We have already given a full account of the wanton mur- 
ders committed in the Spring of '74 and under the lead of Captain 
Cresap and Daniel Greathouse, upon Indians living on the Ohio below 
Fort Pitt, and more especially on the relatives of Logan, the famous 
Mingo Chief. The news of these outrages was received by the Six 
Nations with alarm. They were very deeply moved and greatly exas- 
perated. Logan, the principal sufferer, was the son of Shikellimus, a 
distinguished Cayuga Sachem, and therefore one of their own flesh and 
blood. They at once desired Sir William to hold a congress with them 
upon this serious news. This was granted and by the 7th of July 
about six hundred Iroquois had assembled at the Hall. Sir William had 
for some weeks been indefatigable in his efforts to restrain the Six Na- 
tions from taking any part in the war, which, in consequence of these 
outrages, had already broken out upon the border, and by the time the 
congress was assembled was so physically exhausted as to bring on a 
sharp attack of his old complaint — dysentery. On the 8th and 9th the 
congress — involving almost constant exertion on the Baronet's part — was 
in full progress. On the nth he made a lengthy speech of full two 






A Late Visit to Johnson Hall and Castle. 249 

fiours' duration, delivered with all the fire and fervor of an Indian ora- 
tor, to which, although seated under a burning July sun, the Indians 
listened with grave attention. 

The great cause was gained, but it was at the expense of the life of 
its advocate. Scarcely had his strange and swarthy audience dispersed 
ere he had to be supported to his library. An express was immediately 
sent for his son, who was distant nine miles. Mounting a fleet English 
blood horse, John rode to the Hall with such uncommon speed that his 
gallant horse fell dead when within a mile of the house, having run up- 
wards of eight miles in a quarter of an hour. Sir John borrowed 
another horse and pushed on to the Hall. He found his honored father 
in the arms of a faithful body slave. He spoke to him but received no 
answer, and in a few minutes more the Baronet was no more. 

Upon the announcement of this sudden and shocking death to the 
large assemblage of Indians, who had so long loved and trusted him for 
his justice and integrity, they appeared stupefied and fell into the 
greatest confusion and distress, declaring that they were now left with- 
out a protector, and would at once send "speech belts " to all the In- 
dian tribes. Colonel Guy Johnson, however, solemnly promised them 
that he would take charge of their affairs and carry out Sir William's 
wishes until His Majesty's pleasure was known. They then became 
calm, and on the 13th attended the august funeral in a body, behaving 
with the greatest decorum and exhibiting the most lively marks of real 
sorrow. The next day they performed the ceremony of condolence, 
Conoghquieson, a distinguished Oneida Chief, beginning the touching 
ceremony, and delivering an affecting speech, in which he earnestly ex- 
horted Colonel Johnson to follow the footsteps of their great brother 
Wawaghiyagey, who never deceived them. 

Colonel Guy Johnson, in accordance with a request forwarded by the 
Baronet to the Crown a few weeks before his death, was continued as 
General Indian Superintendent. He was assisted by Colonel Claus, his 
brother-in-law, who had been for a number of years the Baronet's dep- 
uty in Canada, and was well qualified to give advice. 

I 
A Late Visit to Johnson Hall and Castle. 

During the present Summer (1875) we proceeded, via the Hudson 
river, to the beautiful Mohawk valley, for the express purpose of visit- 
ing the scene of Sir William's long labors, and the baronial residences 
which are so inseparably connected with his name and memory. We 
were most richly repaid for our trouble. Leaving Albany by rail, we 



250 Our Western Border. 

passed through the old Dutch town of Schenectady, and stopped first at 
Amsterdam. 

Here taking a horse and buggy, we first visited Guy Park, where 
stands the hall built, in 1766, by Sir William Johnson, for his nephew 
and son-in-law, Colonel Guy Johnson. It is situate near the Mohawk, in 
the midst of a grove of venerable elms, and can easily be seen from the 
cars on the Erie Railroad. It is a solid, substantial, double stone house, 
somewhat modernized, it is true, but still showing what it was in times 
long past — one of the finest structures in the colony. The grounds 
around, which were selected for Sir William by the Indians by reason 
of their fertility, still maintain their old reputation. The widow lady 
who now owns Guy Park says her large farm is as rich and productive 
as any in the Mohawk valley. A short distance further west once stood 
the hall built, at same time and in same style, for Colonel Daniel Claus, 
another son-in-law of Sir William's. It was burnt down during the 
Revolution. A body of six hundred and forty acres was the gift with 
each house. 

About a mile west of Guy Park, the Mohawk river and the Erie Rail- 
road running directly in front, stands Fort Johnson, or Johnson Castle, 
as it was frequently called in olden times. The property is located at 
the base of a hill called Mount Johnson, and was bought by Sir William 
in 1742. The next year he erected a solid, massive stone mansion, 
which looks, even now, as if it would stand for another hundred years. 
It is occupied at present by a family by the name of Aiken, who have 
put very few repairs upon it. The walls are very thick and strong; the 
timbers, especially in the attic, very sound and staunch, and the small, 
square panes of glass are set in heavy sash. Altogether, the house is an 
excellent specimen of the old-style mansion, and would be considered 
an elegant structure even at the present day. A venerable grove of 
locusts |in front serves to somewhat obscure the view of it from the rail- 
road. 

Here Sir William lived constantly until the construction of Johnson 
Hall, in 1763, and even then he occupied it during the Winters. John- 
son Hall is situate a few miles back off the Mohawk, on the edge of the 
flourishing town now known as Johnstown. It is easiest reached by 
rail from Fonda, but we preferred a ride via Tribes Hill, over the 
breezy, verdant uplands, and were accompanied much of the way by the 
hum of the mowing machine. We never remember to have passed over 
a more charming country, or to have had a more delightful ride. On 
reaching Johnstown we soon found the hall. Everybody knew it. It 
stands upon a gentle elevation, and is now the property of Mr. Wells, 
who very freely allowed us admission, and took great pains to show 



A Late Visit to Johnson Hall and Castle. 251 

everything of interest. Although both house and grounds have been 
greatly altered and modernized, we can even now judge well what they 
must have been originally. 

The hall is a two-storied double mansion, built of wood, in the most 
substantial, conscientious manner, with raised panels on the outside in 
imitation of stone. It was, without doubt, in its day the most spacious 
and elegant edifice in the colony outside of New York City. The hall 
is fully fifteen feet wide, and the ceilings over twelve feet high, sur- 
rounded with massive wooden cornices of carved work. The sides of 
the rooms are elegantly wainscoted with pine panels and heavy carved 
work. A broad staircase of easy ascent leads from the lower to the 
upper hall, ornamented with massive mahogany balustrades, which still, 
at every foot, bear the marks of the tomahawk's hacking, said by tradi- 
tion to have been notched there by Chief Brant himself when he fled 
the valley with Sir John Johnson in 1776, " to protect the house from 
the torch of Indians who would understand and respect these signs." 
W. L. Stone, however, the biographer of Sir William, thinks it far more 
probable that the hacking was done by some vandal soldier in the service 
who, not being allowed by his superior officer to burn the building, 
vented his malice in the above manner. 

Of the garden and nursery, situated to the south of the hall, and 
which in the olden times were the delight of the Baronet, and the pride 
of the surrounding country, no vestige remains. Some of the poplars, 
however, which he planted, still stand green and vigorous. The hall 
was formerly flanked by two stone block-houses, with sundry loop holes 
for musketry cut directly under the eaves. But one of these — now con- 
verted into a servants' dwelling — yet stands, the other having been 
burned down many years ago. Of the stone wall which surrounded 
the whole place as a protection against attack, but little now 
remains. 

Mr. Wells informed us that a subterranean passage led from the main 
building to the block-house on the left, and thence another communi- 
cated with the block-house on the right flank. These passages, however, 
as well as the port holes in the remaining block-house, have been filled 
up. Although the building never experienced a siege, yet it was twice 
fortified, once, as stated, by a strong stone rampart in 1763, by Sir 
William, and again in 1776, by Sir John Johnson, previous to his flight 
into Canada. 

When Sir William died he was — part by purchase and part by gift of 
the crown — the largest landed possessor in America, next to the Penns. 
His magnificent estate, however, was confiscated during the Revolution 
and his halls passed out of the family into the hands of strangers. Mr. 



252 



Our Western Border. 



Wells informed us that occasionally some of the descendants of the 
Johnson and Brant families pay Johnson Hall a visit and are deeply in- 
terested in all the localities associated with his name. 



~f £>-%. 



^#2* 




Boone's combat with two savages.— See page 263. 



Chapter IV, 



DANIEL BOONE, PIONEER OF KENTUCKY. 

Here once Boone trod— the hardy Pioneer, 

The only white man in the wilderness. 
Oh, how he loved, alone, to hunt the deer ; 

Alone at eve his simple meal to dress. 
No mark upon the tree, nor print nor track 
To lead him forward or to guide him back ; 
He roved the forest — king, by main and might — 
Looked up to the sky, and shaped his course aright. 
In hunting shirt and moccasin arrayed ; 
With bear-skin cap and pouch and trenchant blade ; 
How carelessly he leaned upon his gun ! 
Sceptre of the wild that hath so often won.— F. IV. Thomas. 

American History presents no character of such fascination and pop- 
ularity as that of Daniel Boone, the pioneer hunter of Kentucky; and 
this, not simply because he was a daring and adventurous woodsman, 
or because the free life of the wilderness has ever its special charms and 
romance, but because of the singular modesty, simplicity and guileless- 
ness of the man's character. Like all truly brave men, Boone had a 
vast amount of quiet, unostentatious force. No man was freer from a 
boastful, vaunting spirit. It is likewise gross error to consider him as 
nothing but a daring hunter, whose life was passed in constant conflict 
with wild beasts or with still more savage Indians. Although an unlet- 
tered man, Boone must occupy a higher plane in our history than that ; 
he was a pioneer, a leader and a masterfu.1 director, as well as a hunter, 
and was as closely connected with civilization and its beneficial achieve- 
ments as he was with the woody solitude and the perils of varied adven- 
ture. He is chiefly admired because he is the completest and most ad- 
mirable specimen of the class to which he belonged. 

George Boone, his grandfather, came to this country from England, 
bringing with him nine sons and ten daughters, the very kind of family 
men needed to populate the . boundless wastes of America. Daniel 
Boone was the son of Squire Boone; was born in Berks county, Pa., in 
1734, but the family soon moved to the South Yadkin, N. C. Daniel 



254 Our Western Border. 

was then about nineteen, a fine, active, stalwart man, exceedingly fond 
of roving in the surrounding forests, and particularly skilled with the 
rifle. But little is known of his early manhood, as he has modestly for- 
borne to say anything of himself, saving so far as he is connected with 
Kentucky. We know for certain, however, that he took great delight 
in long and solitary wilderness excursions, and was early enamored of 
the untrammeled freedom of the boundless forests. 

Of his romantic courtship and marriage, we will treat elsewhere, when 
we come to sketch the life of his most excellent wife, Rebecca. For 
some time he lived happily with her on the banks of the Yadkin, occa- 
sionally disturbing the toiling monotony of his farmer's life by long hunt- 
ing rambles. For instance, Ramsay's Tennessee gives a fac-simile of a 
rude inscription drawn by Boone on a tree in that State, announcing 
his killing of a bear in 1760, at the age of twenty-six. In '64 he had 
even stood within the eastern border of Kentucky and bathed in the 
waters of the Cumberland. It was while viewing the vast herds of buf- 
falo from a spur of the Cumberland mountains, that he exclaimed: 
"I am richer than the one mentioned in Scripture who owned the cat- 
tle of a thousand hills, for I own the wild beasts of more than a thou- 
sand valleys." 

Kentucky as it Was in the Olden Time. 

In '67 Findley, the first white man who ever explored Kentucky, re- 
turned from his solitary vagabondizing and gave such glowing accounts 
of that magnificent country — its hills and valleys ; its park-like forests ; 
its dense canebrakes and — above all to affect a zealous hunter — its ex- 
haustless variety of game, from the beaver to the buffalo, that Boone's 
ardor was kindled and he determined to visit the new Eldorado and 
Paradise for hunters, in person. That Kentucky at that early day pre- 
sented irresistible attractions for the adventurer, can readily be judged 
from the accounts of all who traversed it. Captain Imlay, who, in 
early times, visited it in the Spring, and was enraptured with the pano- 
rama of bewildering beauty which everywhere met his eye, wrote : 
" Everything here assumes a dignity and splendor I have never seen in 
any other part of the world. Here an eternal verdure reigns and the 
brilliant sun piercing through the azure heavens, produces in this pro- 
lific soil an early maturity truly astonishing. Flowers full and perfect as 
if they had been cultivated by the hand of a florist, with all their capti- 
vating odors and with all the variegated charms which color and nature 
can here produce, decorate the smiling groves. Soft zephyrs gently 
breathe on sweets and the inhaled air gives a voluptuous glow of health 






Kentucky as it Was in the Olden Time. 255 

and vigor that seems to ravish the intoxicated senses. The sweet song- 
sters of the forest appear to feel the influence of the genial clime, and 
in more soft and modulated tones warble their tender notes in unison 
with love and nature. Everything here gives delight, and we feel a 
glow of gratitude for what an all-bountiful Creator has bestowed upon 
us." 

Filson, another visitor of the long ago, wrote : "The soil is of a loose, 
deep, black mould without sand — in the best lands about two feet deep 
and exceedingly luxuriant in all its productions. The country is well 
timbered, producing large trees of many kinds, and to be exceeded by 
no country in variety" — among others, sugars, coffee, pawpaw and 
honey locusts. Of the fine cane, so famous for its buffalo paths ; its 
plenteousness of bear and other wild game, and its ranges for cattle, he 
says : " This plant grows from three to twelve feet high; is of a hard 
substance, with joints at eight or ten inches distance along the stalk, 
from which proceed leaves like those of the willow. There are many 
canebrakes so thick and tall that it is difficult to pass through them. 
Where no cane grows there is an abundance of wild rye, clover and buf- 
falo grass, covering vast tracts of country, and affording excellent food 
for cattle. Here are seen the finest crown-imperial in the world ; the 
cardinal flower so much extolled for its scarlet color ; and all the year, 
excepting the Winter months, the plains and valleys are adorned with a 
variety of flowers of the most admirable beauty. Here is also found 
the tulip-bearing laurel tree, or magnolia, which is very fragrant and 
continues to blossom and seed for several months together. By casting 
an eye over the map and viewing round the heads of Licking from the 
Ohio, and round the heads of the Kentucky and Dick's rivers, and down 
Green river to the Ohio again, one may view within that compass of 
above a hundred miles square, the most extraordinary country on which 
the sun has ever shone." 

This is a glowing but not an overdrawn picture of Kan-tuck-ee as she 
was of old, robed in all her primeval beauty. Others have said that 
the herbage was of such lushness and exuberance that you could track 
a man through it at a run on a fleet horse. Indeed, we opine, that few 
of our day can realize the surpassing richness and luxuriance of favored 
portions of the virgin western wilderness. For instance Spencer, in his 
Narrative of Captivity, says : 

" Our western Winters were much milder, our Springs earlier and 
our Autumns longer than now. On the last of February, some of the 
trees were putting forth foliage ; in March the red bud, the hawthorn 
and the dog wood, in full bloom, checkered the hills, and in May the 
ground was covered with the May apple, bloodroot, ginseng, violets and 



256 Our Western Border. 

a great variety of herbs and flowers. Flocks of paroquets were seen, 
decked in their rich plumage of green and gold. Birds of every specie? 
and hue were flitting from tree to tree, and the beautiful red bird and 
the plaintive dove could be seen, and the rumbling drum of the par- 
tridge or the loud gobble of the wild turkey, heard from all sides. 
Here might be seen the clumsy bear, doggedly running off; there the 
timid deer watchfully resting, cautiously feeding, or, aroused from hi? 
matted thicket, gracefully bounding off. It seemed an earthly paradise, 
and but for the apprehension of the wily copperhead, silently coiled 
beneath the leaves ; the horrid rattlesnake, who, however, more chival- 
rous, apprised one of his danger, and the still more fearful and insidious 
savage, who, crawling upon the ground -or noiselessly approaching 
behind trees and thickets, sped the deadly shaft or fatal bullet, you 
might have fancied you were in the confines of Eden or the borders of 
Elysium." 

The author of Miami County Traditions says: "The country all 
around the settlement presented the most lovely appearance ; the earth 
was like an ash-heap for mellowness and nothing could exceed the luxu- 
riance of primitive vegetation ; indeed, our cattle often died from excess 
of feeding, and it was somewhat difficult to rear them on that account. 
The white weed, or bee harvest, as it is called, so profusely spread now 
over our bottoms and woodlands, was not then seen among us ; the 
sweet annis, nettles, wild rye and pea vine, now so scarce, then every- 
where abounded. They were almost the entire herbage of our bottoms; 
the last two gave subsistence to our cattle, and the first, with other nutri- 
tious roots, were eaten by our swine with the greatest avidity. In the 
Spring and Summer months, a drove of hogs could be scented at a con- 
siderable distance from the flavor of the annis root." 

Is it any wonder, then, that the early hunters became enamored of 
these western Edens, so prodigal of sweetness as to throw an atmos- 
phere of fragrance even about a drove of vulgar unsavory swine ! But 
our readers must forgive this tempting side ramble. Revenons a nos 
moutons. 

To one of Boone's tastes, the scenes so enthusiastically described by 
Findley presented charms not to be longer resisted, so joining, in 1769, 
Findley and. four others of like mind and tastes with himself, he left his 
family on the Yadkin and pushed boldly for the West. We cannot, of 
course, in a work as this, essay to give the details of a life like Boone's, 
so absolutely crowded with personal adventure, and so must content 
ourselves with a most meagre outline of his future happenings. 

On the 7th of June they reached Red river, and from a neighboring 
eminence were enabled to survey the vast plain of Kentucky. Here 



Boone Captured for the First Time and Escapes. 257 

they built a cabin, in order to afford them a shelter from the rain — 
which had fallen in immense quantities on their march — and remained 
in a great measure stationary until December, killing a great quantity 
of game immediately around them. Immense herds of buffalo ranged 
through the forest in every direction, feeding on the leaves of the cane 
or the rich and spontaneous fields of clover. On the 2 2d of December, 
Boone and John Stuart, one of his companions, left their encampment, 
and following one of the numerous paths which the buffalo had made 
through the cane, they plunged boldly into the interior of the forest. 
They had as yet seen no Indians, and the country had been reported as 
totally uninhabited. This was true in a strict sense, for although the 
southern and north-western tribes were in the habit of hunting here as 
upon neutral ground, yet not a single wigwam had been erected, nor 
did the land bear the slightest mark of having ever been cultivated. 
The different tribes would fall in with each other, and from the fierce 
conflicts which generally followed these casual rencontres, the country 
had been known among them by the name of "the dark and bloody 



Boone Captured for the First Time and Escapes. 

The two adventurers soon learned the additional danger to which 
they were exposed. While roving carelessly from canebrake to cane- 
brake, and admiring the rank growth of vegetation, and the variety of 
timber which marked the fertility of the soil, they were suddenly 
alarmed by the appearance of a party of Indians, who, springing from 
their place of concealment, rushed upon them with a rapidity that 
rendered escape impossible. They were almost instantly seized, dis- 
armed and made prisoners. Their feelings may be readily imagined. 
They were in the hands of an enemy who knew no alternative between 
adoption and torture, and the numbers and fleetness of their captors 
rendered escape by open means impossible, while their jealous vigilance 
seemed equally fatal to any secret attempt. Boone, however, was 
possessed of a temper admirably adapted to the circumstances in which 
he was placed. Of a cold and saturnine, rather than an ardent dispo- 
sition, he was never either so much elevated by good fortune or de- 
pressed by bad, as to lose for a moment the full possession of all his 
faculties. He saw that immediate escape was impossible, but he en- 
couraged his companion, and constrained himself to follow the Indians 
in all their excursions with so calm and contented an air, that their 
vigilance insensibly began to relax. 

On the seventh evening of their captivity, they encamped in a thick 
17 



258 Our Western Border. 

canebrake, and, having built a large fire, lay down to rest. The party 
whose duty it was to watch, were weary and negligent, and about mid- 
night Boone, who had not closed an eye, ascertained from the deep 
breathing all around him that the whole party, including Stuart, were 
in a deep sleep. Gently and gradually extricating himself from the 
Indians who lay around him, he walked cautiously to the spot where 
Stuart lay, and having succeeded in awakening him without alarming 
the rest, he briefly informed him of his determination, and exhorted 
him to arise, make no noise, and follow him. Stuart, although ignorant 
of the design, and suddenly aroused from sleep, fortunately obeyed 
with equal silence and celerity, and within a few minutes they were be- 
yond hearing. Rapidly traversing the forest, by the light of the stars 
and the barks of the trees, they ascertained the direction in which the 
camp lay, but upon reaching it on the next day, to their great grief, 
they found it plundered and deserted, with nothing remaining to show 
the fate of their companions ; and, even to the day of his death, Boone 
knew not whether they had been killed or taken, or had voluntarily 
abandoned their cabin and returned. Here in a few days they were 
accidentally joined by Boone's brother and another man, who had fol- 
lowed them from Carolina, and fortunately stumbled upon their camp. 
This accidental meeting in the bosom of a vast wilderness, gave great 
relief to the two brothers, although their joy was soon overcast. 

Boone and Stuart, in a second excursion, were again pursued by 
savages, and Stuart was shot and scalped, while Boone fortunately 
escaped. As usual, he has not mentioned particulars, but barely stated 
the event. Within a few days they sustained another calamity, if pos- 
sible still more distressing. Their only remaining companion was 
benighted in a hunting excursion, and, while encamped in the woods 
alone, was attacked and devoured by the wolves. 

The two brothers were thus left in the wilderness alone, separated by 
several hundred miles from home, surrounded by hostile Indians, and 
destitute of everything but their rifles. After having had such melan- 
choly experience of the dangers to which they were exposed, we would 
naturally suppose that their fortitude would have given way, and that 
they would instantly have returned to the settlements. But the most 
remarkable feature in Boone's character was a calm and cold equanim- 
ity, which rarely rose to enthusiasm, and never sunk to despondency. 
His courage undervalued the danger to which he was exposed, and his 
presence of mind, which never forsook him, enabled him, on all occa- 
sions, to take the best means of avoiding it. The wilderness, with all 
its dangers and privations, had a charm for him which is scarcely con- 
ceivable by one brought up in a city, and he determined to remain 



Boone Captured for the First Time and Escapes. 259 

alone, whilst his brother returned to Carolina for an additional supply 
of ammunition, as their original supply was nearly exhausted. 

"I was," he says, "left by myself, without bread, salt or sugar, 
without the company of my fellow-creatures, or even a horse and dog." 

His situation, we should now suppose, was in the highest degree gloomy 
and dispirited. The dangers which attended his brother on his return 
were nearly equal to his own ; and each had left a wife and children, 
which Boone acknowledged cost him many an anxious thought. But 
the wild and solitary grandeur of the country around him, where not a 
tree had been cut, nor a house erected, was to him an inexhaustible 
source of admiration and delight ; and he says himself, that some of the 
most rapturous moments of his life were spent in those lonely rambles. 
The climate was superb. The forests were magnificent with their exu- 
berance of rustling foliage, and in sunny openings lay verdant savannas 
covered with the lushest of grasses and perfectly enameled with flowers. 
Upon these and along several streams and extensive canebrakes, im- 
mense herds of the unwieldy buffalo could be seen rolling along. The 
majestic trees were festooned with vines, from which, in early Autumn, 
hung grapes as luscious as those of Eshcol. In fact, it was a " land of 
Canaan, flowing with milk and honey." The utmost caution was neces- 
sary to avoid the savages, and scarcely less to escape the ravenous hun- 
ger of the wolves that prowled nightly around him in immense numbers. 
He was compelled frequently to shift his lodging, and by undoubted 
signs, saw that the Indians had repeatedly visited his hut during his 
absence. He sometimes lay in canebrakes, without fire, and heard the 
yell of the Indians around him. Fortunately, however, he never en- 
countered them, although he took long rambles all over Northern Ken- 
tucky. 

On the 27th of July, 1770, his brother returned with a supply of 
ammunition on two well-laden horses ; and with a hardihood which ap- 
pears almost incredible, they ranged through the country in every direc- 
tion, and without injury, until March, 1771. They then returned to 
North Carolina, where Daniel rejoined his family, after an absence of 
three years, during nearly the whole of which time he had never tasted 
bread or salt, nor seen the face of a single white man, with the excep- 
tion of his brother, and the friends who had been killed. He here 
determined to sell his farm and remove with his family to the wilderness 
of Kentucky — an astonishing instance of hardihood, and we should 
even say indifference to his family, if it were not that his character has 
uniformly been represented as mild and humane as it was bold and 
fearless. 



260 Our Western Border. 



Boone Moves his Family to Kentucky — Loses a Son. 

Accordingly, on the 25th of September, 1771, having disposed of all 
the property which he could not take with him, he took leave of his 
friends and commenced his journey to the west. A number of milch 
cows and horses, laden with a few necessary household utensils, formed 
the whole of his baggage. His wife and children were mounted on 
horseback and accompanied him, every one regarding them as devoted 
to destruction. In Powell's valley, they were joined by five more 
families and forty men well armed. Encouraged by this accession of 
strength, they advanced with additional confidence, but had soon a 
severe warning of the further dangers which awaited them. When 
near Cumberland Mountain, their rear was suddenly attacked with great 
fury by a scouting party of Indians, and thrown into considerable con- 
fusion. The party, however, soon rallied, and being accustomed to 
Indian warfare, returned the fire with such spirit and effect, that the 
Indians were repulsed with slaughter. Their own loss, however, had 
t>een severe. Six men were killed upon the spot, and one wounded. 
Among the killed was Boone's eldest son — to the unspeakable affliction 
of his family. The disorder and grief occasioned by this rough recep- 
tion, seems to have affected the emigrants deeply, as they instantly 
retraced their steps to the settlements on Clinch river, forty miles from 
the scene of action. Here they remained until June, 1774, probably 
at the request of the women, who must have been greatly alarmed at 
the prospect of plunging more deeply into a country upon the skirts of 
which they had witnessed so keen and bloody a conflict. 

At this time Boone, at the request of Governor Dunmore, of Virginia, 
conducted a number of surveyors to the falls of Ohio, a distance of 
eight hundred miles. Of the incidents of this journey, we have no 
record whatever. After his return he was engaged under Dunmore, 
until 1775, in several affairs with the Indians, and at the solicitation of 
some gentlemen of North Carolina, he attended at a treaty with the 
Cherokees, for the purpose of purchasing the lands south of Kentucky 
river. 

It was under the auspices of Colonel Henderson that Boone's next 
visit to Kentucky was made. Leaving his family on Clinch river, he 
set out, at the head of a few men, to mark out a road for the pack-horses 
or wagons of Henderson's party. This laborious and dangerous duty 
he executed with his usual patient fortitude, until he came within fifteen 
miles of the spot where Boonsborough afterwards was built. Here, on 
the 2 2d of March, his small party was attacked by the Indians, and suf- 



Capture of Boone's Daughter and the Calloway Girls. 261 

fered a loss of four men killed and wounded. The Indians, although 
repulsed with loss in this affair, renewed the attack with equal fury on 
the next day, and killed and wounded five more of his party. On the 
ist of April, the survivors began to build a small fort on the Kentucky 
river, afterwards called Boonsborough, and, on the 4th, they were again 
attacked by the Indians, and lost another man. Notwithstanding the 
harassing attacks to which they were constantly exposed, (for the In- 
dians seemed enraged to madness at the prospect of them building 
houses on their hunting grounds,) the work was prosecuted with inde- 
fatigable diligence, and on the 14th was completed. 

Boone instantly returned to Clinch river for his family, determined 
to bring them with him at every risk. This was done as soon as the 
journey could be performed, and Mrs. Boone and her daughters were 
the first white women who stood upon the banks of the Kentucky river, 
as Boone himself had been the first white man who ever built a cabin 
upon the borders of the State. The first house, however, which ever 
stood in the interior of Kentucky, was erected at Harrodsburg, in the 
year 1774, by James Harrod, who conducted to this place a party of 
hunters from the banks of the Monongahela. This place was, there- 
fore, a few months older than Boonsborough. Both soon became dis- 
tinguished, as the only places in which hunters and surveyors could find 
security from the fury of the Indians. 

Within a few weeks after the arrival of Mrs. Boone and her daugh- 
ters, the infant colony was reinforced by three more families, at the head 
of which were Mrs. McGary, Mrs. Hogan and Mrs. Denton. Boons- 
borough, however, was the central object of Indian hostilities, and 
scarcely had his family become domesticated in their new possession when 
they were suddenly attacked by a party of Indians, and lost one of their 
garrison. This was in December, 1775. 

Capture of Boone's Daughter, and the Calloway Girls. 

In the following July, however, a much more alarming event oc- 
curred. Boone's daughter, Jemima, in company with Betty and Fanny 
Calloway, crossed the Kentucky river in a canoe, and while amusing 
themselves along the leafy bank by splashing the water about with their 
paddles, they were seen by five lurking savages. One of them, stealthily 
gliding into the stream, seized the tying rope and succeeded in noise- 
lessly dragging the canoe into a little leafy nook out^of sight of the fort. 
The loud shrieks of the now terrified girls quickly alarmed the family, 
The small garrison was dispersed in their usual occupations; but Boone 
hastily collected a small party of eight men, and pursued the enemy. 



262 Our Western Border. 

So much time, however, had been lost, that the Indians had got several 
miles the start of them. The pursuit was urged through the night with 
great keenness, by woodsmen capable of following a trail at all times, 
and on the following day they came up with them. The attack was so 
sudden and furious, that the Indians were driven from the ground be- 
fore they had time to tomahawk their prisoners, and the girls were recov- 
ered without having sustained any other injury than excessive fright and 
fatigue. Nothing but a barren outline of this interesting occurrence 
has been given. We know nothing of the conduct of the Indians to 
their captives, or of the situation of the young ladies during the short 
engagement, and cannot venture to fill up the outline from imagination. 
The Indians lost two men, while Boone's party was uninjured. 

From this time until the 15th of April, 1777, the garrison was inces- 
santly harassed by flying parties of Indians. While ploughing their 
corn, they were waylaid and shot; while hunting, they were chased and 
fired upon; and sometimes a solitary Indian would creep up near the 
fort, in the night, and fire upon the first of the garrison who appeared 
in the morning. They were in a constant state of anxiety and alarm, 
and the most ordinary duties could only be performed at the risk of 
their lives. On the 15th the enemy appeared in large numbers, hoping 
to crush the infant settlement at a single blow. Boonsborough, Logan's 
Fort and Harrodsburg were attacked at one and the same time. But, 
destitute as they were of artillery, scaling ladders, and all the proper 
means of reducing fortified places, they could only distress the men, 
alarm the women and destroy the corn and cattle. Boonsborough sus- 
tained some loss, as did the other stations, but the enemy, being more 
exposed, suffered so severely as to cause them to retire with precipita- 
tion. 

No rest, however, was given to the unhappy garrison. On the 4th 
of July following they were again attacked by two hundred warriors, 
but the enemy were repulsed with loss. The Indians retreated, but a 
few days afterwards fell upon Logan's station with great fury, having 
sent detachments to alarm the other stations, so as to prevent the ap- 
pearance of reinforcements at Logan's. In this last attempt they dis- 
played great obstinacy, and as the garrison consisted only of fifteen 
men, they were reduced to extremity. Not a moment could be allowed 
for sleep. Burning arrows were shot upon the roofs of the houses, and 
the Indians often pressed boldly up to the gates, and attempted to hew 
them down with their tomahawks. Fortunately, at this critical time, 
Colonel Bowman arrived from Virginia with one hundred men well 
armed, and the savages precipitately withdrew, leaving the garrison 
almost exhausted with fatigue and reduced to twelve men. 






Boone's Fight with Two Savages. 263 



Boone's Fight with Two Savages — He is taken Captive. 

A brief period of repose now followed, in which the settlers endea- 
vored to repair the damages done to their farms. But a period of heavy 
trial to Boone and his family was approaching. In January, 1778, ac- 
companied by thirty men, Boone went to the Blue Licks to make salt 
for the different stations, and used to go out to hunt for them regularly. 
One day, according to Flint, his biographer, he had wandered some 
distance from the river, and suddenly encountered two savages. He 
could not retreat, and so slipped behind a tree, and then exposed him- 
self to attract their aim. The first shot, and Boone dropped at the flash 
as if killed. To make the second throw away his shot, he again exposed 
part of his person. The eager savage instantly fired, and Boone evaded 
the shot as before. The two Indians were now, with nervous hands, 
attempting to reload. Boone now drew a fatal bead on the foremost, 
and he fell, pierced to the heart. The two antagonists now advanced — 
Boone flourishing his knife and the savage his tomahawk— to the dead 
body of the fallen Indian. Boone placed his foot on the body, and 
received the tomahawk on his rifle. In the attitude of striking, the un- 
wary savage had exposed his body, in which the remorseless knife was 
plunged to the hilt. 

On the 7th of February following, while out hunting, he fell in with 
one hundred and two Indian warriors, on their march to attack Boons- 
borough. He instantly fled, but being nearly fifty years old, was un- 
able to contend with the fleet young men who pursued him, and was a 
second time taken prisoner. As usual, he was treated with kindness 
until his final fate was determined, and was led back to the Licks, where 
his men were still encamped. Here his whole party, to the number of 
twenty-seven, surrendered themselves, upon promise of life and good 
treatment, both of which conditions were faithfully observed. 

Had the Indians prosecuted their enterprise, they might, perhaps, by 
showing their prisoners and threatening to put them to the torture, 
have operated so far upon the sympathies of the garrison as to have ob- 
tained considerable results. But nothing of the kind was attempted. 
They had already been unexpectedly successful, and it is their custom 
after either good or bad fortune, immediately to return home and enjoy 
the triumph. Boone and his party were conducted to the old town of 
Chillicothe, where they remained till the following March. No journal 
was written during this period, by either Boone or his party. We are 
only informed that his mild and patient equanimity wrought powerfully 
upon the Indians; that he was adopted into a family, and uniformly 



264 Our Western Border. 

treated with the utmost affection. One fact is given us which shows his 
acute observation and knowledge of mankind. At the various shooting 
matches to which he was invited, he took care not to beat them too 
often. He knew that no feeling is more painful than that of inferiority, 
and that the most effectual way of keeping them in a good humor with 
him, was to keep them in a good humor with themselves. He, there- 
fore, only shot well enough to make it an honor to beat him, and found 
himself an universal favorite. 

On the ioth of March, 1778, Boone was conducted to Detroit, when 
Governor Hamilton himself offered ^100 for his ransom; but so strong 
was the affection of the Indians for their prisoner, that it was positively 
refused. Several English gentlemen, touched with sympathy for his 
misfortunes, made pressing offers of money and other articles, but 
Boone steadily refused to receive benefits which he could never return. 
The offer was honorable to them, and the refusal was dictated by rather 
too refined a spirit of independence. Boone's anxiety on account of 
his wife and children was incessant, and the more intolerable, as he 
dared not excite the suspicion of the Indians by any indication of a 
wish to rejoin them. 

Upon his return from Detroit, he observed that one hundred and 
fifty warriors of various tribes had assembled, painted and equipped for 
an expedition against Boonsborough. His anxiety at this sight became 
ungovernable, and he determined, at every risk, to effect his escape. 
During the whole of this agitating period, however, he permitted no 
symptoms of anxiety to escape him. He hunted and shot with them, 
as usual, until the morning of the 16th of June, when, taking an early 
start, he left Chillicothe and directed his route to Boonsborough. The 
distance exceeded one hundred and sixty miles, but he performed it in 
four days, during which he ate only one meal. He appeared before 
the garrison like one rising from the dead. His wife, supposing him 
killed, had transported herself, children and property to her father's 
house, in North Carolina; his men, suspecting no danger, were dis- 
persed to their ordinary avocations, and the works had been permitted 
to go to waste. Not a moment was to be lost. The garrison worked 
day and night upon the fortifications. New gates, new flanks and 
double bastions, were soon completed. The cattle and horses were 
brought into the fort, ammunition prepared, and everything made 
ready for the approach of the enemy within ten days after his arrival. 
At this time, one of his companions in captivity arrived from Chilli- 
cothe, and announced that his escape had determined the Indians to 
delay the invasion for three weeks. 

During this interval, it was ascertained that numerous spies were 



Severe Siege of Boonsborough. 265 

traversing the woods and hovering around the station, doubtless for the 
purpose of observing and reporting the condition of the garrison. 
Their report could not have been favorable. The alarm had spread 
very generally, and all were upon the alert. The attack had been de- 
layed so long that Boone began to suspect that they had ,been discour- 
aged by the report of the spies ; and he determined to invade them. 
Selecting nineteen men from his garrison, he put himself at their head, 
and marched with equal silence and celerity against the town on Paint 
Creek, on the Scioto. He arrived, without discovery, within four miles 
of the town, and there encountered a party of thirty warriors on their 
march to unite with the grand army in the expedition against Boons- 
borough. Instantly attacking them with great spirit, he compelled 
them to give way with some loss, and without any injury to himself. 
He then halted, and sent two spies in advance to ascertain the con- 
dition of the village. In a few hours they returned with the intelli- 
gence that the town was evacuated. He instantly concluded that the 
grand army was on its march against Boonsborough, whose situation, as 
well as his own, was exceedingly critical. Retracing his steps, he 
marched day and night, hoping still to elude the enemy and reach 
Boonsborough before them. He soon fell in with their trail, and 
making a circuit to avoid them, he passed their army on the sixth day 
of his march, and on the seventh reached Boonsborough. 

Severe Siege of Boonseorough — Indian Stratagems Foiled. 

On the eighth the enemy appeared in great force. There were nearly 
five hundred Indian warriors, armed and painted in their usual manner, 
and what was still more formidable, they were conducted by a Canadian 
officer, well skilled in the usages of modern warfare. As soon as they 
were arrayed in front of the fort, the British colors were displayed, and 
an officer with a flag was sent to demand the surrender of the fort, with 
a promise of quarter and good treatment in case of compliance, and 
threatening "the hatchet," in case of a storm. Boone requested two 
days for consideration, which, in defiance of all experience and com- 
mon sense, was granted. This interval, as usual, was employed inj 
preparation for an obstinate resistance. The cattle were brought into" 
the fort, the horses secured, and all things made ready against the com- 
mencement of hostilities. 

Boone then assembled the garrison and represented to them the con- 
dition in which they stood. They had not to deal with Indians alone, 
but with British officers, skilled in the art of attacking fortified places, 
sufficiently numerous to direct y but too few to restrain their savage 



266 Our Western Border. 

allies. IF they surrendered, their lives might and probably would be 
saved ; but they would suffer much inconvenience, and must lose all 
their property. If they resisted., and were overcome, the life of every 
man, woman and child would be sacrificed. The hour was now come 
in which they were to determine what was to be done. If they were 
inclined to surrender, he would announce it to the officer ; if they were 
resolved to maintain the fort, he would share their fate, whether in life 
or death. He had scarcely finished, when every man arose and in a 
firm tone announced his determination to defend the fort to the last. 

Boone then appeared at the gate of the' fortress, and communicated 
to Captain Duquesne the resolution of his men. Disappointment and 
chagrin were strongly painted upon the face of the Canadian at this 
answer; but endeavoring to disguise his feelings, he declared that Gov- 
ernor Hamilton had ordered him not to injure the men if it could be 
avoided, and that if nine of the principal inhabitants of the fort would 
come out into the plain and treat with them, they would instantly de- 
part without further hostility. The insidious nature of this proposal 
was evident, for they could converse very well from where they then 
stood, and going out would only place the officers of the fort at the 
mercy of the savages — not to mention the absurdity of supposing that 
this army of warriors would "treat," but upon such terms as pleased 
them, and no terms were likely to do so, short of a total abandonment 
of the country. Notwithstanding these objections, the word "treat," 
sounded so pleasantly in the ears of the besieged, that they agreed at 
once to the proposal and Boone himself, attended by eight of his men, 
went out and mingled with the savages, who crowded around them in 
great numbers, and with countenances of deep anxiety. 

The treaty then commenced and was soon concluded. What the 
terms were, we are not informed, nor is it a matter of the least import- 
ance, as the whole was a stupid and shallow artifice. This was soon 
made manifest. Duquesne, after many very pretty periods about "bien- 
faisance and humanite" which should accompany the warfare of civil- 
ized beings, at length informed Boone, that it was a singular custom 
with the Indians, upon the conclusion of a treaty with the whites, for 
two warriors to take hold of the hand of each white man. Boone 
thought this rather a singular custom, but there was no time to dispute 
about etiquette, particularly as he could not be more in their power 
than he already was ; so he signified his willingness to conform to the 
Indian mode of cementing friendship. Instantly, two warriors ap- 
proached each white man, with the word "brother" upon their lips, 
but a very different expression in their eyes, and grappling him with 
violence, attempted to bear him off, " Go ! " shouted Blackfish to his 



Indian Stratagems Foiled. 267 

savages. The whites probably expected such a consummation, and all 
at the same moment sprung from their enemies. The struggle was vio- 
lent, but of short (Juration. Boone and his fellows tossed the savages 
from them, and in the midst of rifle balls from the fort and of bullets, 
tomahawks and arrows from the foe, the heroic little band escaped into 
the fortress and securely barred the gate, all being uninjured save 
Boone's brother, Squire. 

The attack instantly commenced by a heavy fire against the picket- 
ing, and was returned with fatal accuracy by the garrison.. The Indians 
quickiy sheltered themselves; and the action became more cautious and 
deliberate. Finding but little effect from the fire of his men, Duquesne 
next resorted to a more formidable mode of attack. The fort stood on 
the south bank of the river, within sixty yards of the water. Com- 
mencing under the bank, where their operations were concealed from 
the garrison, they attempted to push a mine into the fort. Their ob- 
ject, however, was fortunately discovered by the quantity of fresh earth 
which they were compelled to throw into the river, and by which the 
water became muddy for some distance below. Boone, who had re- 
gained his usual sagacity, instantly cut a trench within the fort in such 
a manner as to intersect the line of their approach, and thus frustrated 
their design. The enemy exhausted all the ordinary artifices of Indian 
warfare, but were steadily repulsed in every effort. Finding their num- 
bers daily thinned by the deliberate but fatal fire of the garrison, and 
seeing no prospect of final success, they broke up on the ninth day of 
the siege and returned home. The loss of the garrison was two killed 
and four wounded. On the part of the savages, thirty-seven were killed 
and many wounded, who, as usual, were carried off. This was the last 
siege sustained by Boonsborough. The country had increased so rap- 
idly in numbers, and so many other stations lay between Boonsborough 
and the Ohio, that the savages could not reach it without leaving ene- 
mies in the rear. 

In the Autumn of this year Boone returned to North Carolina for his 
wife and family, who, as already observed, had supposed him dead, and 
returned to her father. There is a hint in Mr. Marshall's history, that 
the family affairs, which detained him in North Carolina, were of an 
unpleasant character, but no explanation is given. In the Summer of 
1780 he returned to Kentucky with his family, and settled at Boons- 
borough. Here he continued busily engaged upon his farm until the 
6th of October, when, accompanied by his brother, he went to the 
Lower Blue Licks, for the purpose of providing himself with salt. This 
spot seemed fatal to Boone. Here he had once been taken prisoner by 
the Indians and here he was destined, within two years, to lose his 



268 Our Western Border. 

youngest son, and to witness the slaughter of many of his dearest 
friends. His present visit was not free from calamity. Upon their re- 
turn, they were encountered by a party of Indians, and his brother, 
who had accompanied him faithfully through many years of toil and 
danger, was killed and scalped before his eyes. Unable either to pre- 
vent or avenge his death, Boone was compelled to fly, and by his supe- 
rior knowledge of the country, contrived to elude his pursuers. They 
followed his trail, however, by the scent of a dog, that pressed him 
closely, and prevented his concealing himself. This was one of the 
most critical moments of his life, but his usual coolness and fortitude 
enabled him to meet it. He halted until the dog, baying loudly upon 
his trail, came within gunshot, when he deliberately turned and shot 
him dead. The thickness of the wood and the approach of darkness 
then enabled him to effect his escape. 

During the following year Boonsborough enjoyed uninterrupted 
tranquility. The country had become comparatively thickly settled, 
and was studded with fortresses in every direction, Fresh emigrants 
with their families were constantly arriving ; and many young unmar- 
ried women, (who had heretofore been extremely scarce,) had ventured 
to risk themselves in Kentucky. They could not have selected a spot 
where their merit was more properly appreciated, and were disposed of 
very rapidly to the young hunters, most of whom had hitherto, from 
necessity, remained bachelors. Thriving settlements had been pushed 
beyond the Kentucky river, and a number of houses had been built 
where Lexington now stands. 

The year 1781 passed away in perfect tranquility, and, judging from 
appearances, nothing was more distant than the terrible struggle that 
awaited them. But during the whole of this year the Indians were 
meditating a desperate effort to crush the settlements at a single blow. 
They had become seriously alarmed at the tide of emigration, which 
rolled over the country and threatened to convert their favorite hunt- 
ing ground into one vast cluster of villages. The game had already 
been much dispersed ; the settlers, originally weak and scattered over the 
south side of the Kentucky river, had now become numerous, and were 
rapidly extending to the Ohio. One vigorous and united effort might 
still crush their enemies, and regain for themselves the undisputed pos- 
session of the western forests. A few renegade white men were min- 
gled with them, and inflamed their wild passions by dwelling upon the 
injuries which they had sustained at the hands of the whites, and of the 
necessity for instant and vigorous exertion, or of an eternal surrender 
of every hope either of redress or vengeance. Among these the most 
remarkable was Simon Girty. Runners were dispatched to most of the 



Defeat of Captain Estill. 

northwestern tribes, and all were exhorted to lay aside private jealousy 
and unite in a common cause against these white intruders. In the 
meantime, the settlers were busily employed in opening farms, marry- 
ing and giving in marriage, totally ignorant of the storm which was 
gathering upon the lakes. 

Defeat of Captain Estill — A Well-fought Action. 

In the Spring of 1782, after a long interval of repose, they were 
harassed by small parties, who preceded the main body, as the pattering 
and irregular drops of rain are the precursors of the approaching 
storm. In the month of May, a party of twenty-five Wyandots secretly 
approached Estill's station, and committed shocking outrages in its 
vicinity. Entering a cabin which stood apart from the rest, they seized 
a woman and her two daughters, who, having been violated with cir- 
cumstances of savage barbarity, were tomahawked and scalped. Their 
bodies, yet warm and bleeding, were found upon the floor of the cabin. 
The neighborhood was instantly alarmed. Captain Estill speedily col- 
lected a body of twenty-five men, and pursued their trail with great 
rapidity. He came up with them on Hinkston fork of Licking, imme- 
diately after they had crossed it, and a most severe and desperate con- 
flict ensued. The Indians at first appeared daunted and began to fly, 
but their chief, who was badly wounded by the first fire, was heard in 
a loud voice, ordering them to stand and return the fire, which was 
instantly obeyed. 

The creek ran between the two parties, and prevented a charge on 
either side, without the certainty of great loss. The parties, therefore, 
consisting of precisely the same number, formed an irregular line, within 
fifty yards of each other, and sheltering themselves behind trees or logs, 
they fired with deliberation, as an object presented itself. The only 
manoeuvre which the nature of the ground permitted, was to extend 
their lines in such a manner as to uncover the flank of the enemy, and 
even this was extremely dangerous, as every motion exposed them to a 
close and deadly fire. The action, therefore, was chiefly stationary, 
neither party advancing or retreating, and every individual acting for 
himself. It had already lasted more than an hour, without advantage 
on either side or any prospect of its termination. Captain Estill had 
lost one-third of his men, and had inflicted about an equal loss upon 
his enemies, who still boldly maintained their ground and returned his 
fire with equal spirit. To have persevered in the Indian mode of fight- 
ing, would have exposed his party to certain death, one by one, unless 
all the Indians should be killed first, who, however, had at least an 



270 Our Western Border. 

equal chance with himself. Even victory, bought at such a price, would 
have afforded but a melancholy triumph ; yet it was impossible to 
retreat or advance without exposing his men to the greatest danger. 

After coolly revolving these reflections in his mind, and observing 
that the enemy exhibited no symptoms of discouragement, Captain 
Estill determined to detach a party of six men, under Lieutenant 
Miller, with orders to cross the creek above, and take the Indians in 
flank, while he maintained his ground, ready to co-operate as circum- 
stances might require. But he had to deal with an enemy equally bold 
and sagacious. The Indian chief was quickly aware of the division of 
the force opposed to him, from the slackening of the fire in front, and, 
readily conjecturing his object, he determined to frustrate it by crossing 
the creek with his whole force, and overwhelming Estill, now weakened 
by the absence of Miller. The manoeuvre was bold and masterly, and 
was executed with determined courage. Throwing themselves into the 
water, they fell upon Estill with the tomahawk, and drove him before 
them with slaughter. Miller's party retreated with precipitation, and 
even lie under the reproach of deserting their friends and absconding, 
instead of occupying the designated ground. Others contradict this 
statement, and affirm that Miller punctually executed his orders, crossed 
the creek, and, falling in with the enemy, was compelled to retire with 
loss. 

Estill's party, finding themselves furiously charged, and receiving no 
assistance from Miller, who was probably at that time on the other side 
of the creek, in execution of his orders, would naturally consider them- 
selves deserted, and when a clamor of that kind is once raised against a 
man, (particularly in a defeat,) the voice of reason can no longer be 
heard. Some scapegoat is always necessary. The broken remains of 
the detachment returned to the station, and filled the country with con- 
sternation and alarm, greatly disproportioned to the extent of the loss. 
The brave Estill, with eight of his men, had fallen, and four were 
wounded — more than half of their original number. 

This, notwithstanding the smallness of the numbers, is a very remark- 
able action, and perhaps more honorable to the Indians than any one 
on record. The numbers, the arms, the courage and the position of 
the parties were equal. Both were composed of good marksmen and 
skillful woodsmen. There was no surprise, no panic, nor any particu- 
lar accident, according to the most probable account, which decided 
the action. A delicate manoeuvre, on the part of Estill, gave an ad- 
vantage, which was promptly seized by the Indian chief, and a bold 
and masterly movement decided the fate of the day. 

The news of Estill's disaster was quickly succeeded by another, scarcely 



Girty's Desperate Attack on Bryant Station. 271 

less startling to the alarmed settlers. Captain Holder, at the head of 
seventeen men, pursued a party of Indians who had taken two boys 
from the neighborhood of Hoy's station. He overtook them after a 
rapid pursuit, and in the severe action which ensued, was repulsed with 
the loss of more than half his party. The tide of success seemed com- 
pletely turned in favor of the Indians. They traversed the woods in 
every direction, sometimes singly and sometimes in small parties, and 
kept the settlers in constant alarm. 



GIRTY'S DESPERATE ATTACK ON BRYANT STATION. 

At length, early in August, the great effort was made. The allied 
Indian army, composed of detachments from nearly all the northwestern 
tribes, and amounting to nearly six hundred men, under the lead of 
Simon Girty, the notorious renegade, commenced their march from 
Chillicothe, under command of their respective chiefs, aided and in- 
fluenced by Girty, M'Kee, and other renegade white men. With a se- 
crecy and celerity peculiar to themselves, they advanced through the 
woods without giving the slightest indication of their approach, and on 
the night of the 14th of August, they appeared before Bryant's station, 
as suddenly as if they had risen from the earth, and surrounding it on 
all sides, calmly awaited the approach of daylight, holding themselves 
in readiness to rush in upon the inhabitants the moment the gates were 
opened in the morning. The supreme influence of fortune in war, was 
never more strikingly displayed. The garrison had determined to 
march on the following morning, to the assistance of Hoy's station, 
from which a messenger had arrived the evening before, with the intel- 
ligence of Holder's defeat. Had the Indians arrived only a few hours 
later they would have found the fort occupied only by old men, women 
and children, who could not have resisted their attack for a moment. 
As it was, they found the garrison assembled and under arms, most of 
them busily engaged throughout the whole night, in preparing for an 
early march the following morning. The Indians could distinctly hear 
the bustle of preparation, and see lights glancing from block-houses and 
cabins during the night, which must have led them to suspect that their 
approach had been discovered. All continued tranquil during the night, 
and Girty silently concerted the plan of attack. 

The fort, consisting of about forty cabins placed in parallel lines, 
stood upon a gentle rise on the southern bank of the Elkhorn, a few 



272 Our Western Border. 

paces to the right of the road from Maysville to Lexington. The gar- 
rison was supplied with water from a spring at some distance from the 
fort, on its northwestern side — a great error in most of the stations, 
which, in a close and long-continued siege, must have suffered dread- 
fully for the want of water. The great body of Indians placed them- 
selves in ambush within half rifle shot of the spring, while one hundred 
select men were placed near the spot where the road runs after passing 
the creek, with orders to open a brisk fire and show themselves to- the 
garrison on that side, for the purpose of drawing them out, while the 
main body held themselves in readiness to rush upon the opposite gate 
of the fort, hew it down with their tomahawks, and force their way into 
the midst of the cabins. 

At dawn of day, the garrison paraded under arms, and were prepar- 
ing to open their gates and march off, as already mentioned, when they 
were alarmed by a furious discharge of rifles, accompanied with yells 
and screams, which struck terror to the hearts of the women and chil- 
dren, and startled even the men. All ran hastily to the picketing, and 
beheld a small party of Indians exposed to open view, firing, yelling 
and making the most furious gestures. The appearance was so singular, 
and so different from their usual manner of fighting, that some of the 
more wary and experienced of the garrison instantly pronounced it a 
decoy party, and restrained their young men from sallying out and at- 
tacking them, as some of them were strongly disposed to do. The op- 
posite side of the fort was instantly manned, and several breaches in 
the picketing rapidly repaired. 



The Heroism of the Kentucky Women. 

Their greatest distress arose from the prospect of suffering for water. 
The more experienced of the garrison felt satisfied that a powerful 
party was in ambuscade near the spring, but at the same time they sup- 
posed that the Indians would not unmask themselves until the firing 
upon the opposite side of the fort was returned with such warmth as to 
induce the belief that the feint had succeeded. Acting upon this im- 
pression, and yielding to the urgent necessity of the case, they sum- 
moned all the women, without exception, and explaining to them the 
circumstances in which they were placed, and the improbability that 
any injury would be offered to them until the firing had been returned 
from the opposite side of the fort, they urged them to go in a body to 
the spring, and each to bring up a bucketful of water. Some of the 
ladies, as was natural, had no relish for the undertaking, and asked why 



The Heroism of the Kentucky Women. 273 

the men could not bring water as well as themselves ! observing that 
they were not bullet-proof, and that the Indians made no distinction 
between male and female scalps. 

To this it was answered that women were in the habit of bringing 
water every morning to the fort, and that if the Indians saw them engaged 
as usual, it would induce them to believe that their ambuscade was un- 
discovered, and that they would not unmask themselves for the sake of 
firing at a few women, when they hoped, by remaining concealed a few 
moments longer, to obtain complete possession of the fort ; that if 
men should go down to the spring, the Indians would immediately sus- 
pect that something was wrong, would despair of succeeding by ambus- 
cade, and would instantly rush upon them, follow them into the fort, or 
shoot them down at the spring. The decision was soon over. A few 
of the boldest declared their readiness to brave the danger, and the 
younger and more timid rallying in the rear of these veterans, they all 
marched down in a body to the spring, within point blank shot of 
more than five hundred Indian warriors ! 

Some of the girls could not help betraying symptoms of terror, but 
the married women, in general, moved with a steadiness and composure 
which completely deceived the Indians. Not a shot was fired. The 
party were permitted to fill their buckets, one after another, without in- 
terruption, and although their steps became quicker and quicker on 
their return, and when near the gate of the fort, degenerated into 
rather an unmilitary celerity, attended with, some little crowding in 
passing the gate, yet not more than one-fifth of the water was spilled, 
and the eyes of the youngest had not dilated to more than double their 
ordinary size. 

Being now amply supplied with water, they sent out thirteen young 
men to attack the decoy party, with orders to fire with great rapidity, 
and make as much noise as possible, but not to pursue the enemy too 
far, while the rest of the garrison took post on the opposite side of the 
fort, cocked their guns, and stood in readiness to receive the ambus- 
cade as soon as it was unmasked. The firing of the light parties on the 
Lexington road was soon heard, and quickly became sharp and serious, 
gradually becoming more distant from the fort. Instantly Girty sprang 
up, at the head of his five hundred warriors, and rushed rapidly upon the 
western gate, ready to force his way over the undefended palisades. 
Into this immense mass of dusky bodies the garrison poured several 
rapid volleys of rifle balls with destructive effect. Their consternation 
may be imagined. With wild cries they dispersed on the right and 
left, and in two minutes not an Indian was to be seen. At the same 
time, the party who had sallied out on the Lexington road, came 
18 



274 Our Western Border. 

running into the fort at the opposite gate, in high spirits, and laughing 
heartily at the success of the manoeuvre. 

A regular attack, in the usual manner, then commenced, without 
much effect on either side, until two o'clock in the afternoon, when a 
new scene presented itself. Upon the first appearance of the Indians 
in the morning, two of the garrison, Tomlinson and Bell, had been 
mounted on fleet horses and sent to Lexington, announcing the arrival 
of the Indians and demanding reinforcements. Upon their arrival, a 
little after sunrise, they found the town occupied only by women and 
children and a few old men, the rest having marched, at the intelli- 
gence of Holder's defeat, to the general rendezvous at Hoy's station. 
The two couriers instantly followed at a gallop, and overtaking them 
on the road, informed them of the danger to which Lexington was ex- 
posed during their absence. 

The whole party, amounting to sixteen horsemen, and more than 
double that number on foot, with some additional volunteers from 
Boone's station, instantly countermarched, and repaired with all pos- 
sible expedition to Bryant's station. They were entirely ignorant of 
the overwhelming numbers opposed to them, or they would have pro- 
ceeded with more caution. Tomlinson had only informed them that 
the station was surrounded, being himself ignorant of the numbers of 
the enemy. By great exertions, horse and foot appeared before 
Bryant's at two in the afternoon, and pressed forward with precipitate 
gallantry to throw themselves into the fort. The Indians, however, had 
been aware of the departure of the two couriers, who had, in fact, 
broken through their line in order to give the alarm, and expecting the 
arrival of reinforcements, had taken measures to meet them. 



Running a Bloody Gauntlet — Girty Chaffed by Reynolds. 

To the left of the long and narrow lane, where the Maysville and 
Lexington road now runs, there were more than one hundred acres ot 
green standing corn. The usual road from Lexington to Bryant's ran 
parallel to the fence of this field, and only a few feet distant from it. 
On the opposite side of the road was a thick wood. Here more than 
three hundred Indians lay in ambush, within pistol shot of the road, 
awaiting the approach of the party. The horsemen came in view at a 
time when the firing had ceased and everything was quiet. Seeing no 
enemy, and hearing no noise, they entered the lane at a gallop, and 
were instantly saluted with a shower of rifle balls from each side, at the 
rlistance of ten paces. At the first shot, the whole party set spurs to 



Running a Bloody Gauntlet, 275 

their horses, and rode at full speed through a rolling fire from either 
side, which continued for several hundred yards, but owing partly to 
the furious rate at which they rode; partly to the clouds of dust raised 
by the horses' feet, they all entered the fort unhurt. The men on foot 
were less fortunate. They were advancing through the cornfield, and 
might have reached the fort in safety but for their eagerness to succor 
their friends. Without reflecting that, from the weight and extent of 
the fire, the enemy must have been ten times their number, they ran up 
with inconsiderate courage to the spot where the firing was heard, and 
there found themselves cut off from the fort, and within pistol shot of 
more than three hundred savages. 

Fortunately, the Indian guns had just been discharged, and they had 
not yet leisure to reload. At the sight of this brave body of footmen, 
however, they raised a hideous yell, and rushed upon them, tomahawk 
in hand. Nothing but the high corn and their loaded rifles could have 
saved them from destruction. The Indians were cautious in rushing 
upon a loaded rifle with only a tomahawk, and when they halted to load 
their pieces, the Kentuckians ran with great rapidity, turning and dodg- 
ing through the corn in every direction. Some entered the wood aod 
escaped through the thickets of cane, some were shot down in the corn- 
field, others maintained a running fight, halting occasionally behind 
trees, and keeping the enemy at bay with their rifles, for, of all men, 
the Indians are generally the most cautious in exposing themselves to 
danger. A stout, active young fellow, was so hard pressed by Girty 
and several savages, that he was compelled to discharge his rifle, (how- 
ever unwillingly, having no time to reload it,) and Girty fell. It hap- 
pened, however, that a piece of thick sole-leather was in his shot-pouch 
at the time, which received the ball, and preserved his life, although the 
force of the blow felled him to the ground. The savages halted upon 
his fall, and the young man escaped. 

Although the skirmish and race lasted for more than an hour, during" 
which the cornfield presented a scene of turmoil and bustle which can 
scarcely be conceived, yet very few lives were lost. Only six of the 
white men were killed and wounded, and probably still fewer of the 
enemy, as the whites never fired until absolutely necessary, but reserved 
their loads as a check upon the enemy. Had the Indians pursued them 
to Lexington, they might have possessed themselves of it without resist- 
ance, as there was no force there to oppose them; but after following 
the fugitives for a few hundred yards, they returned to the hopeless siege 
of the fort. 

It was now near sunset, and the fire on both sides had slackened. The 
Indians had become discouraged. Their loss in the morning had beer. 



276 Our Western Border. 

heavy, and the country was evidently arming, and would soon be upon 
them, They had made no impression upon the fort, and without artil- 
lery could hope to make none. The chiefs spoke of raising the siege 
and decamping, but Girty determined, since his arms had been unavail- 
ing, to try the efficacy of negotiation. Near one of the bastions there 
was a large stump, to which he crept on his hands and knees, and from 
which he hailed the garrison. "He highly commended their courage, 
but assured them that further resistance would be madness, as he had 
six hundred warriors with him, and was in hourly expectation of rein- 
forcements, with artillery, whicji would instantly blow their cabins into 
the air; that if the fort was taken by storm, as it certainly would be, 
when their cannon arrived, it would be impossible for him to save their 
lives; but if they surrendered at once, he gave them his honor that not 
a hair of their heads should be injured. 

"He told them his name, inquired whether they knew him, and assured 
them that they might safely trust to his honor." The garrison listened 
in silence to this speech, and many of them looked very blank at the 
mention of the artillery, as the Indians had, on one occasion, brought 
cannon with them, and destroyed two stations. But a young man by 
the name of Reynolds, highly distinguished for courage, energy and a 
frolicsome gaiety of temper, perceiving the effect of Girty's speech, took 
upon himself to reply to it. To Girty's inquiry of "whether the gar- 
rison knew him?" Reynolds replied, "that he was very well known — 
that he himself had a worthless dog to which he had given the name of 
( Simon Girty,' in consequence of his striking resemblance to the man 
of that name. That if he had either artillery or reinforcements, he 

might bring them up and be . That if either himself or any of the 

naked rascals with him found their way into the fort, they would dis- 
dain to use their guns against them, but would drive them out again with 
switches, of which they had collected a great number for that purpose 
alone; and, finally, he declared that they also expected reinforcements 
— that the whole country was marching to their assistance, and that if 
Girty and his gang of murderers remained twenty-four hours longer 
before the fort, their scalps would be found drying in the sun upon the 
roofs of their cabins." 

Girty took great offence at the tone and language of the young Ken 
tuckian, and retired with an expression of sorrow for the inevitable de- 
struction which awaited them on the following morning. He quickly 
rejoined the chiefs, and instant preparations were made for raising the 
siege. The night passed away in uninterrupted tranquility, and at day- 
light in the morning the Indian camp was found deserted. Fires were 
still burning brightly, and several pieces of meat were left upon their 



The Disastrous Battle of "The Blue Licks." 277 

roasting sticks, from which it was inferred that they had retreated a short 
time before daylight. 

Early in the day reinforcements began to drop in, and, by noon, one 
hundred and sixty-seven men were assembled at Bryant's station. Col- 
onel Daniel Boone, accompanied by his youngest son, headed a strong 
party from Boonsborough; Trigg brought up the force from the neigh- 
borhood of Harrodsburg, and Todd commanded the militia around 
Lexington. Nearly a third of the whole number assembled was com- 
posed of commissioned officers, who" hurried from a distance to the scene 
of hostilities, and, for the time, took their station in the ranks. Of 
those under the rank of Colonel, the most conspicuous were, Majors 
Harland, McBride, McGary, and Levi Todd, and Captains Bulger and 
Gordon. Of the six last-named officers, all fell in the subsequent battle 
except Todd and McGary. Todd and Trigg, as senior Colonels, took 
the command, although their authority seems to have been in a great 
measure nominal. That, however, was of less consequence, as a sense 
of common danger is often more binding than the strictest discipline. 
A tumultuous consultation, in which every one seemed to have a voice, 
terminated in a unanimous resolution to pursue the enemy without 
delay. 

It was well known that General Logan had collected a strong force in 
Lincoln, and would join them at farthest in twenty-four hours. It was 
distinctly understood that the enemy was at least double, and, accord- 
ing to Girty's account, more than treble their own numbers. It was 
seen that their trail was broad and obvious, and that even some indica- 
tions of a tardiness and willingness to be pursued had been observed 
by their scouts, who had been sent out to reconnoitre, and from which 
it might reasonably be inferred that they would halt on the way — at 
least, march so leisurely as to permit them to wait for the aid of Logan, 
Yet so keen was the ardor of officer and soldier, that all these obvious 
reasons were overlooked, and in the afternoon of the 18th of August, 
the line of march was taken up, and the pursuit urged with that precip- 
itate courage which has so often been fatal to Kentuckians. Most of 
the officers and many of the privates were mounted. 

The Disastrous Battle of "The Blue Licks." 

The Indians had followed the buffalo trace, and, as if to render their 
trail still more evident, they had chopped many of the trees on each 
side of the road with their hatchets. These strong indications of tardi- 
ness, made some impression upon the cool and calculating mind of 
Boone, but it was too late to advise retreat. They encamped that night 



278 Our Western Border. 

in the woods, and on the following day reached the fatal boundary of 
their pursuit. At the Lower Blue Licks, for the first time since the 
pursuit commenced, they came within view of an enemy. As the mis- 
cellaneous crowd of horse and foot reached the southern bank of Lick- 
ing, they saw a number of Indians ascending the rocky ridge on the 
other side. They halted upon the appearance of the Kentuckians, 
gazed at them for a few moments in silence, and then calmly and lei- 
surely disappeared over the top of the hill. 

A halt immediately ensued. A dozen or twenty officers met in front 
of the ranks, and entered into consultation. The wild and lonely as- 
pect of the country around them, their distance from any point of sup- 
port, with the certainty of their being in the presence of a superior 
enemy, seems to have inspired a seriousness bordering upon awe. 
All eyes were now turned upon Boone, and Colonel Todd asked his 
opinion as to what should be done. The veteran woodsman, with 
his usual unmoved gravity, replied, "that their situation was critical 
and delicate — that the force opposed to them was undoubtedly numer- 
ous and ready for battle, as might readily be seen from the leisurely 
retreat of the few Indians who had appeared upon the crest of the hill; 
that he was well acquainted with the ground in the neighborhood of the 
Lick, and was apprehensive that an ambuscade was formed at the dis- 
tance of a mile in advance where two ravines, one upon each side of the 
ridge, ran in such a manner that a concealed enemy migh assail them 
at once both in front and flank, before they were apprised of the danger. 

" It would be proper, therefore, to do one of two things : either to 
await the arrival of Logan, who was now undoubtedly on his march to 
join them; or, if it was determined to attack without delay, that one -half 
of their number should march up the river, which there bends in an 
elliptical form, cross at the rapids, and fall upon the rear of the enemy, 
v/hile the other division attacked in front. At any rate, lie strongly 
urged the necessity of reconnoitering the ground carefully before the 
main body crossed the river." Such was the counsel of Boone. And 
although no measure could have been much more disastrous than that 
which was adopted, yet it may be doubted if anything short of an im- 
mediate retreat upon Logan, could have saved this gallant body of men 
from the fate which they encountered. If they divided their force, the 
enemy, as in Estill's case, might have overwhelmed them in detail — if 
they remained where they were, without advancing, the enemy would 
certainly have attacked them, probably in the night, and with a cer- 
tainty of success. They had committed a great error at first in not 
waiting for Logan, and nothing short of a retreat, which would have 
been considered disgraceful, could now repair it. 



The Disastrous Battle of " The Blue Licks." 279 

Boone was heard in silence and with deep attention. Some wished 
to adopt the first plan — others preferred the second, and the discussion 
threatened to be drawn out to some length, when the boiling ardor of 
McGary, who could never endure the presence of an enemy without in- 
stant battle, stimulated him to an act which had nearly proved destruc- 
tive to his country. He suddenly interrupted the consultation with a 
ioud whoop, resembling the war cry of the Indians, spurred his horse 
into the stream, waved his hat over his head and shouted, " Let all who 
are not cowards follow me!" The words and the action together, pro- 
duced an electric effect. The mounted men dashed tumultuously into 
the river, each striving to be foremost. The footmen were mingled 
with them in one rolling and irregular mass. No order was given and 
none observed. They struggled through a deep ford as well as they 
could, McGary still leading *~he van, closely followed by Majors Har- 
land and McBride. 

With the same rapidity they ascended the ridge, which, by the tramp- 
ling of buffalo for ages, had been stripped bare of all vegetation, with 
the exception of a few dwarfish cedars, and which was rendered still 
more desolate in appearance by the multitude of rocks, blackened by 
the sun, which were spread over its surface. Upon reaching the top 
of the ridge, they followed the buffalo traces with the same precipitate 
ardor — Todd and Trigg in the rear ; McGary, Harland, McBride and 
Boone in front. No scouts were sent in advance — none explored either 
flank — officers and soldiers seemed alike demented by the contagious ex- 
ample of a single man, and all struggled forward, horse and foot, as if 
to outstrip each other in the advance. 

Suddenly, the van halted. They had reached the spot mentioned by 
Boone, where two ravines headed on each side of the ridge. Here a 
body of Indians presented themselves, and attacked the van. McGary's 
party instantly returned the fire, but under great disadvantage. They 
were upon a bare and open ridge — the Indians in a bushy ravine. The 
centre and rear, ignorant of the ground, hurried up to the assistance of 
the van, but were soon stopped by a terrible fire from the ravine that 
flanked them. They found themselves enclosed as if in the wings of a 
net, destitute of a proper shelter, while the enemy were, in a great 
measure, covered from their fire. Still, however, they maintained their 
ground. 



280 Our Western Border. 



Boone's Son Killed — Thrilling Incidents — Reynolds' Capture. 

The action now became fierce and bloody. The parties gradually 
closed, the Indians emerged from the ravine, and the fire became 
mutually destructive. The officers suffered dreadfully. Todd and 
Trigg, in the rear — Harland, McBride, and young Boone, in front, 
were already killed. The Indians gradually extended their line, to 
turn the right of the Kentuckians, and cut off their retreat. 

This was quickly perceived by the weight of the fire from that 
quarter, and the rear instantly fell back in disorder, and attempted to 
rush through their only opening to the river. The motion quickly 
communicated itself to the van, and a hurried retreat became general. 
The Indians instantly sprang forward in pursuit, and falling upon them 
with their tomahawks, made a cruel slaughter. From the battle ground 
to the river, the spectacle was terrible. The horsemen generally 
escaped, but the foot, particularly the van, which had advanced farthest 
within the wings of the nef; were almost totally destroyed. Colonel 
Boone, after witnessing the death of his son Israel, and many of his 
dearest friends, found himself almost entirely surrounded at the very 
commencement of the retreat. Several hundred Indians were between 
him and the ford, to which the great mass of the fugitives were bending 
their flight, and to which the attention of the savages was principally 
directed. Being intimately acquainted with the ground, he, together 
with a few friends, dashed into the ravine which the Indians had occu- 
pied, but which most of them had now left to join the pursuit. 

After sustaining one or two heavy fires, and baffling one or two small 
parties, who pursued him for a short distance, he crossed the river be- 
low the ford, by swimming, and entered the wood at a point where 
there was no pursuit, returning by a circuitous route to Bryant's station. 
In the meantime, the great mass of the victors and vanquished crowded 
the bank of the ford. The slaughter was great in the river. The ford 
was crowded with horsemen and foot and Indians, all mingled together. 
Some were compelled to seek a passage above by swimming — some, 
who could not swim, were overtaken and killed at the edge of the water. 
A man by the name of Netherland, who had formerly been strongly 
suspected of cowardice, here displayed a coolness and presence of mind 
equally noble and unexpected. Being finely mounted, he had out- 
stripped the great mass of fugitives, and crossed the river in safety. A 
dozen or twenty horsemen accompanied him, and having placed the river 
between him and the enemy, showed a disposition to continue their flight, 
without regard to the safety of their friends who were on foot and still 



Thrilling Incidents — Reynolds' Capture. 281 

struggling with the current. Netherland instantly checked his horse, 
and in a loud voice called upon his companions to halt — fire upon the 
Indians, and save those who were still in the stream. The party in- 
stantly obeyed — and, facing about, poured a fatal discharge of rifles 
upon the foremost of the pursuers. The enemy instantly fell back from 
the opposite bank, and gave time for the harassed and miserable foot- 
men to cross in safety. The check, however, was but momentary. In- 
dians were seen crossing in great numbers above and below, and the 
flight again became general. Most of the foot left the great buffalo 
track, and, plunging into the thickets, escaped by a circuitous route to 
Bryant's. 

But little loss was sustained after crossing the river, although the pur- 
suit was urged keenly for twenty miles. From the battle ground to the 
ford the loss was very heavy ; and at that stage of the retreat there oc- 
curred a rare and striking instance of magnanimity, which it would be 
criminal to omit. The reader cannot have forgotten young Reynolds, 
who replied with such rough and ready humor to the pompous summons 
of Girty, at the siege of Bryant's. This young man, after bearing his 
share in the action with distinguished gallantry, was galloping with sev- 
eral other horsemen in order to reach the ford. The great body of the 
fugitives had preceded them, and their situation was in the highest de- 
gree critical and dangerous. 

iVbout half way between the battle ground and the river, the party 
overtook Captain Patterson, on foot, exhausted by the rapidity of the 
flight, and, in consequence of former wounds received from the Indians, 
so infirm as to be unable to keep up with the main body of the men on 
foot. The Indians were close behind him, and his fate seemed in- 
evitable. Reynolds, upon coming up with the brave officer, instantly 
sprang from his horse, aided Patterson to mount upon the saddle, and 
continued his own flight on foot. Being remarkably active and vigor- 
ous, he contrived to elude his pursuers, and, turning off from the main 
road, plunged into the river near the spot where Boone had crossed, 
and swam in safety to the opposite side. Unfortunately he wore a pair 
of buckskin breeches, which had become so heavy and full of water as 
to prevent his exerting himself with his usual activity, and while sitting- 
down for the purpose of pulling them off, he was overtaken by a party 
of Indians and made prisoner. 

A prisoner is rarely put to death by the Indians, unless wounded or 
infirm, until their return to their own country ; and then his fate is de- 
cided in solemn council. Young Reynolds, therefore, was treated kind 
ly, and compelled to accompany his captors in the pursuit. A small 
party of Kentuckians soon attracted their attention, and he was left in 



282 Our Western Border. 

charge of three Indians, who, eager in pursuit, in turn committed him 
to the charge of one of their number, while they followed their com- 
panions. Reynolds and his guard jogged along very leisurely — the for- 
mer totally unarmed, the latter with a tomahawk and rifle in his hands. 
At length the Indian stopped to tie his moccasin, when Reynolds in- 
stantly sprung upon him, knocked him down with his fist, and quickly 
disappeared in the thicket which surrounded them. For this act of 
generosity, Captain Patterson afterwards made him a present of two 
hundred acres of first-rate land. 

Late in the evening of the same day, most of the survivors arrived at 
Bryant's station. The awful tidings spread rapidly throughout the 
country, and the whole land was covered with mourning. Sixty of the 
very flower of Kentucky had been killed in the battle and flight, and 
seven had been taken prisoners, of whom some were afterwards put to 
death by the Indians, as was said, to make their loss even. This ac- 
count, however, appears very improbable. It is almost incredible that 
the Indians should have suffered an equal loss. Their superiority of 
numbers, their advantage of position, (being in a great measure shel- 
tered, while the Kentuckians, particularly the horsemen, were much ex- 
posed,) the extreme brevity of the battle, and the acknowledged bold- 
ness of the pursuit, all tend to contradict the report that the Indian loss 
exceeded ours. We have no doubt that some of the prisoners were 
murdered after arriving at their towns, but cannot believe that the 
reason assigned for so ordinary a piece of barbarity was the true one. 
Still the execution done by the Kentuckians, while the battle lasted, 
seems to have been considerable, although far inferior to the loss which 
they themselves sustained. 

Hugh McGary's Fiery Character and his Defence. 

Todd and Trigg were a severe loss to their families, and to the 
country generally. They were men of rank in life, superior to the or- 
dinary class of settlers, and generally esteemed for courage, probity 
and intelligence. The death of Major Harland was deeply and univer- 
sally regretted. A keen courage, united to a temper the most amiable, 
and an integrity the most incorruptible, had rendered him extremely 
popular in the country. Together with his friend McBride, he accom- 
panied McGary in the van, and both fell in the commencement of the 
action. McGary, notwithstanding the extreme exposure of his station, 
as leader of the van, and consequently most deeply involved in the 
ranks of the enemy, escaped without the slightest injury. This gentle- 
man will ever be remembered as associated with the disaster of which 



Hugh McGary's Fiery Character and his Defence. 283 

he was the immediate, although not the original, cause. He has al- 
ways been represented as a man of fiery and daring courage, strongly 
tinctured with ferocity, and unsoftened by any of the humane and gen- 
tle qualities which awaken affection. In the hour of battle, his pres 
ence was invaluable, but in civil life, the ferocity of his temper rendered 
him an unpleasant companion. 

Several years after the battle of the Blue Licks, a gentleman of Ken- 
tucky, since dead, fell in company with McGary at one of the circuit 
courts, and the conversation soon turned upon the battle. McGary 
frankly acknowledged that he was the immediate cause of the loss of 
blood on that day, and, with great heat and energy, assigned his rea- 
sons for urging on the battle. He said that in the hurried council 
which was held at Bryant's, on the 18th, he had strenuously urged 
Todd and Trigg to halt for twenty-four hours, assuring them that, with 
the aid of Logan, they would be able to follow them even to Chilli- 
cothe if necessary, and that their numbers then were too weak to en- 
counter them alone. He offered, he said, to pledge his head that the 
Indians would not return with such precipitation as was supposed, but 
would afford ample time to collect more force, and give them battle 
with a prospect of success. 

He added, that Colonel Todd scouted his arguments, and declared 
that " if a single day was lost the Indians would never be overtaken — - 
but would cross the Ohio and disperse ; that now was the time to strike 
them, while they were in a body — that to talk of their numbers was 
nonsense. — the more the merrier ! — that for his part he was determined 
to pursue without a moment's delay, and did not doubt that there were 
brave men enough on the ground to enable him to attack them with 
effect." McGary declared, " that he felt somewhat nettled at the man- 
ner in which his advice had been received ; that he thought Todd and 
Trigg jealous of Logan, who, as senior Colonel, would be entitled to 
the command upon his arrival ; and that, in their eagerness to have the 
honor of the victory to themselves, they were rashly throwing them- 
selves into a condition which would endanger the safety of the 
country. 

"However, sir," (continued he, with an air of unamiable triumph,) 
'• when I saw the gentlemen so keen for a fight, I gave way, and joined 
in the pursuit as willingly as any; but when we came in sight of the 
enemy, and the gentlemen began to talk of ' numbers,' 'position/ 

' Logan,' and ' waiting,' I burst into a passion, d d them for a set 

of cowards, who could not be wise until they were scared into it, and 
swore that since they had come so far for a fight, they should Jight, or 1 
would disgrace them forever ! That when I spoke of waiting for Logan 



284 Our Western Border. 

on the day before, they had scouted the idea, and hinted about 
' courage' — that now it would be shown who had courage, or who were 
d d cowards, who could talk big when the enemy were at a dis- 
tance, but turned pale when danger was near. I then dashed into the 
river, and called upon all who were not cowards to follow !" The 
gentleman upon whose authority it is given added, that even then, 
McGary spoke with bitterness of the deceased Colonels, and swore that 
they had received just what they deserved, and that he for one was glad 
of it. 

On the very day on which this rash and unfortunate battle was fought 
Colonel Logan arrived at Bryant's station, at the head of no less than 
four hundred and fifty men. He here learned that the little army had 
marched on the preceding day, without waiting for so strong and neces- 
sary a reinforcement. Fearful of some such disaster as had actually 
occurred, he urged his march with the utmost diligence, still hoping to 
overtake them before they could cross the Ohio ; but within a few miles 
of the fort, he encountered the foremost of the fugitives, whose jaded 
horses, and harassed looks, announced but too plainly the event of the 
battle. As usual with men after a defeat, they magnified the number 
of the enemy and the slaughter of their comrades. None knew the 
actual extent of their loss. They could only be certain of their own 
escape, and could give no account of their companions. Fresh strag- 
glers constantly came up, with the same mournful intelligence ; so that 
Logan, after some hesitation, determined to return to Bryant's until all 
the survivors should come up. In the course of the evening, both horse 
and foot were reassembled at Bryant's, and the loss was distinctly ascer- 
tained. 

Although sufficiently severe, it was less than Logan had at first appre- 
hended ; and having obtained all the information which could be col- 
lected, as to the strength and probable destination of the enemy, he 
determined to continue his march to the battle ground, with the hope 
that success would embolden the enemy, and induce them to remain 
until his arrival. On the second day he reached the field. The enemy 
were gone, but the bodies of the Kentuckians still lay unburied, on the 
spot where they had fallen. Immense flocks of buzzards were soaring 
over the battle ground, and the bodies of the dead had become so 
swollen and disfigured, that it was impossible to recognize the features 
of their most particular friends. Many corpses were floating near the 
shore of the northern bank, already putrid from the action of the sun, 
and partially eaten by fishes. The whole were carefully collected, by 
order of Colonel Logan, and interred as decently as the nature of the 
soil would permit. Being satisfied that the Indians Were by this time 



Hugh McGary's Fiery Character and his Defence. 285 

far beyond his reach, he then retraced his steps to Bryant's station and 
dismissed his men. 

As soon as intelligence of the battle of the Blue Licks reached Colo- 
nel George Rogers Clark, who then resided at the falls of Ohio, he 
determined to set on foot an expedition against the Indian towns, for 
the purpose, both of avenging the loss of the battle, and rousing the 
spirit of the country, which had begun to sink into the deepest dejec 
tion. He proposed that one thousand men should be raised from all 
parts of Kentucky, and should rendezvous at Cincinnati, under the 
command of their respective officers, where he engaged to meet them 
at the head of a part of the Illinois regiment, then under his command, 
together with one brass field piece, which was regarded by the Indians 
with superstitious terror. The offer was embraced with great alacrity ; 
and instant measures were taken for the collection of a sufficient number 
of volunteers. 

The whole force of the interior was assembled, under the command 
of Colonel Logan, and descending the Licking in boats prepared for 
the purpose, arrived safely at the designated point of union, where they 
were joined by Clark, with the volunteers and regular detachment from 
below. No provision was made for the subsistence of the troops, and 
the sudden concentration of one thousand men and horses upon a single 
point, rendered it extremely difficult to procure the necessary supplies. 
The woods abounded in game — but the rapidity and secrecy of their 
march, which was absolutely essential to the success of the expedition, 
did not allow them to disperse in search of it. They suffered greatly, 
therefore, from hunger as well as fatigue ; but all being accustomed to 
privations of every kind, they prosecuted their march with unabated 
rapidity, and appeared within a mile of one of their largest villages, 
without encountering a single Indian. Here, unfortunately, a straggler 
fell in with them, and instantly fled to the village, uttering the alarm 
whoop repeatedly in the shrillest and most startling tones. The troops 
pressed forward with great dispatch, and, entering their town, found it 
totally deserted. The houses had evidently been abandoned only a few 
minutes before their arrival. Fires were burning, meat was upon the 
roasting sticks, and corn was still boiling in their kettles. The pro- 
visions were a most acceptable treat to the Kentuckians, who were well 
nigh famished, but the escape of their enemies excited deep and universal 
chagrin. 

After refreshing themselves, they engaged in the serious business of 
destroying the property of the tribes with unrelenting severity. Their 
villages were burnt, their corn cut up, and their entire country laid 
waste. During the whole of this severe but necessary occupation, 



Our Western Border. 

scarcely an Indian was to be seen. The alarm had spread universally, 
and every village was found deserted. Occasionally, a solitary Indian 
would crawl up within gunshot and deliver his fire; and once a small 
party, mounted upon superb horses, rode up with great audacity, within 
musket shot, and took a leisurely survey of the whole army, but upon 
seeing a detachment preparing to attack them, they galloped off with a 
rapidity that baffled pursuit. 



Boone's Last Days — Driven to Missouri — Touching Scenes. 

Boone accompanied this expedition, but, as usual, has omitted every- 
thing which relates to himself. Here the brief memoir of Boone closes= 
It does not appear that he was afterwards engaged in any public expe- 
dition or solitary adventure. He continued a highly respectable farmer- 
citizen of Kentucky for several years, until the country became too 
thickly settled for his taste. As refinement of manners advanced, and 
the general standard of intelligence became elevated by the constant 
arrival of families of rank and influence, the rough old woodsman found 
himself entirely out of his element. The all-engaging subject of poli- 
tics, which soon began to agitate the country with great violence, was 
to him as a sealed book or an unknown language, and for several years 
he wandered among the living groups which thronged the court yard or 
the churches, like a venerable relic of other days. He was among 
them, but not of them ! He pined in secret for the wild and lonely 
forests of the west— for the immense prairie, trodden only by the buf- 
falo or the elk, and became eager to exchange the listless languor and 
security of a village for the healthful exercise of the chase or the more 
thrilling excitement of savage warfare. 

In 1792, he dictated his brief and rather dry memoirs to some young 
gentleman who could write, and who garnished it with a few flour- 
ishes of rhetoric, which passed off upon the old woodsman as a precious 
morsel of eloquence. He was never more gratified than when he could 
sit and hear it read to him, by some one who was willing, at so small an 
expense, to gratify the harmless vanity of the kind-hearted old pioneer. 
He would listen with great earnestness, and occasionally rub his hands, 
smile and ejaculate, "all true! — every word true! — not a lie in it!" 
He never spoke of himself unless particularly questioned; but this writ- 
ten account of his life was the Delilah of his imagination. The idea of 
"seeing his name in print," completely overcame the cold philosophy 
of his general manner, and he seemed to think it a masterpiece of com- 
position. 




Boone's Last Days — Driven to Missouri. 287 

A disastrous reverse increased his discontent. He had, after the Rev^ 
olution, collected much of his means to purchase land warrants, but 
while on his way to Richmond, was robbed of the whole and left desti- 
tute. Ignorant, too, of the niceties of the law, he found that even those 
lands he had located and thought his own, were defective in title, and 
so it came to pass that the old pioneer, although the first to explore the 
magnificent domain of Kentucky, could at length claim of her soil only 
the six feet that belonged to every child of Adam. Sore, wounded and 
dissatisfied, but never, that we can hear, embittered, Boone forever left 
Kentucky ; turned his back upon civilization and its legal chicanery , 
settled for awhile with his faithful wife on the Kanawha in Virginia, and 
finally joined his son Daniel in what is now Missouri, but what was then 
part of the Spanish territory. The Spanish authorities at St. Louis gave 
him a grant of land, and at length he found peace again and lived by 
his traps and rifle, sending the spoils of the hunt to St. Louis. 

He had left Kentucky in debt, but living in a time when it was not 
considered exactly honorable to breakup " full handed," or to com- 
pound with creditors at fifty cents on the dollar, he worked manfully 
along until he had raised some money, and then once more appeared in 
Boonsborough a stranger in a strange land. The honest old man sought 
out his creditors, took each one's word for the amount of his indebted 
ness to him, and, after satisfying every claim, dollar for dollar, he 
shouldered his trusty rifle and started again for his western home. 

But marked changes were going on even in that remote wilderness. 
His western paradise was soon disturbed by intruders. The territory 
had changed hands from Spain to France and then to the United States. 
He now used to make long trapping and hunting excursions up the 
Missouri river and its tributaries. At one time he took pack-horses and 
went to the Osage, taking with him a negro lad. Soon after preparing 
his camp, he lay a long time sick. One pleasant day, when able to walk 
out, he took the boy to a slight eminence and marked out his own grave, 
enjoining the lad, in case of his (Boone's) death, to wash his body and 

rap it.in a clean blanket. He was then to dig a grave exactly as he 
had marked it, drag his body and put it therein and then plant posts at 
the head and foot, and mark the trees so the place could be found by 
his friends. Special messages were then given about his horses, rifle, 
&c. All these directions were given, as the boy declared, with entire 
calmness and serenity. 

He did not die then, however, but soon after became landless again. 
His title was declared invalid and, at seventy-six, the venerable pioneer 
was a second time left without one acre in all that boundless domain. 
But this did not sour him. His sweetness of disposition still continued, 



283 Our Western Border. 

and with an enduring and touching faith, he sent, in 1812, a memorial 
to the Kentucky Senate, asking their influence in form of a petition to 
Congress to confirm his Spanish title to ten thousand acres. This was 
done, much to Boone's satisfaction, most promptly and heartily, but 
Congress hesitated, and at length, in 181 4, gave him title to less than a 
thousand. 

While his claim was pending, the most terrible disaster of his life be- 
fell the old man in the loss of his dear and most faithful wife, Rebecca. 
He wept over her coffin as one who " would not be comforted." With 
her he buried all his earthly affections. He left his own humble cabin 
and took up his residence with his son, Major Nathan Boone. He now 
returned to his forest rambles and hunting sports, and when about eighty- 
two years old, he made a hunting excursion as far as Fort Osage on the 
Kansas, one hundred miles from his dwelling. On all these distant ad- 
ventures, he took with him a companion bound by written agreement, 
that wherever he died, he was to convey and bury his body beside that of 
his wife overlooking the .Missouri. 

In 1 81 9 a distinguished artist visited Boone at his dwelling near the 
Missouri, for the purpose of taking his portrait, and found him in a 
" small, rude cabin, indisposed and reclining on his bed. A slice from 
the loin of a buck, twisted about the ramrod of his rifle, within reach 
of him as he lay, was roasting before the fire. Several other cabins, 
arranged in the form of a parallelogram, were occupied by the descend- 
ants of the pioneer. Here he lived in the midst of his posterity. His 
withered energies and locks of snow, indicated that the sources of exist- 
ence were nearly exhausted." 

Boone died of fever on the 26th of September, 1820, in the eighty- 
seventh year of his age, and at the residence of his son-in-law in Flan- 
ders, Calloway county, Mo., and was buried by the side of his wife. It 
is said that when too old to hunt, he would seat himself, with his trusty 
old rifle in hands and with eyes turned towards the forest, and thus gaze 
wistfully for hours, living over again in memory, doubtless, the active 
and stirring scenes of his youth and manhood beneath similar sombre 
shades. When intelligence of his death reached the Missouri Legisla-f 
ture, an adjournment and the usual badge of mourning for thirty days* 
was voted. 

In 1845 a committee, appointed by the Kentucky Legislature, visited 
Missouri and had the bodies of the old pioneer and his wife, Rebecca, 
removed to Frankfort, and on the 13th of September, 1845, tne ashes of 
the revered and illustrious dead were recommitted to Kentucky dust 
amid the most solemn and imposing ceremonies. It was a great day in 
Kentucky, and one long to be held in sacred remembrance. An im« 



Two Characteristic Anecdotes of Daniel Boone. 289 

mense concourse of citizens had assembled from all parts of the State. 
The funeral procession was more than a mile in length. The hearse, 
profusely decorated with flowers and evergreens, was drawn by four 
white horses and accompanied, as pall bearers, by such distinguished 
pioneers as Colonel R. M. Johnson, General James Taylor, General R. 
McAfee, Colonel John Johnston, of Ohio, and Colonel Wm. Boone, of 
Shelby. The affecting funeral ceremonies were performed in a beauti- 
ful hollow near the grave, the -oration having been delivered by the 
Hon. J. J. Crittenden. 

It is a common error to suppose that Boone was a very ignorant, 
illiterate man. He could both read and write, and his spelling was no 
worse than that of his cotemporary, General George Rogers Clark, and 
other prominent men of his day and generation. Governor Morehead, 
in his commemorative address, says of Boone : 

"His life is a forcible example of the powerful influence a single 
absorbing passion exerted over the destiny of an individual. Possess- 
ing no other acquirements than a very common education, he was ena- 
bled, nevertheless, to maintain through a long and useful career, a con- 
spicuous rank among the most distinguished of his cotemporaries. He 
united in an eminent degree the qualities of shrewdness, caution, cour- 
age and uncommon muscular strength. He was seldom taken by sur- 
prise ; he never shrank from danger, nor cowered beneath the pressure 
of exposure and fatigue. His manners were simple and unobtrusive — 
exempt from the rudeness characteristic of the backwoodsman. In his 
person there was nothing remarkably striking. He was five feet ten 
inches in height and of robust and powerful proportions. His counte- 
nance was mild and contemplative. His ordinary habits were those 
of a hunter. He died as he lived, in a cabin, and perhaps his trusty 
rifle was the most valuable Of all his chattels." 

Two Characteristic Anecdotes of Daniel Boone. 

Boone, according to James Hall, was once resting in the woods with 
a small number of his followers, when a large party of Indians came 
suddenly upon them and halted — neither party having discovered the 
other until they came in contact. The whites were eating, and the sav- 
ages, with the ready tact for which they are famous, sat down with per- 
fect composure, and also commenced eating. It was obvious they 
wished to lull the suspicions of the white men, and seize a favorable 
opportunity for rushing upon them. Boone affected a careless inatten- 
tion, but, in an undertone, quietly admonished his men to keep their 
hands upon their rifles. He then strutted towards the reddies unarmed 
19 



290 Our Western Border. 

and leisurely picking the meat from a bone. The Indian leader, who 
was somewhat similarly employed, arose to meet him. 

Boone saluted him, and then requested to look at the knife with which 
the Indian was cutting his meat. The chief handed it to him without 
hesitation, and our pioneer, who, with his other traits, possessed con- 
siderable expertness at sleight of hand, deliberately opened his mouth 
and affected to swallow the long knife, which, at the same instant, he 
threw adroitly into his sleeve. The Indians were astonished. Boone 
gulped, rubbed his throat, stroked his body, and then, with apparent 
satisfaction, pronounced the horrid mouthful to be very good. 

Having enjoyed the surprise of the spectators for a few moments, he 
made another contortion, and drawing forth the knife, as they supposed, 
from his body, coolly returned it to the chief. The latter took the point 
cautiously between his thumb and finger, as if fearful of being contam- 
inated by touching the weapon, and threw it from him into the bushes. 
The pioneer sauntered back to his party, and the Indians, instantly dis- 
patching their meal, marched off, desiring no further intercourse with a 
man who could swallow a scalping knife. 

From Collins' Kentucky we derive the following : One morning in 
1777, several men in the fields near Boonsborough were attacked by In- 
dians, and ran towards the fort. One was overtaken and tomahawked 
within seventy yards of the fort, and while being scalped, Simon Ken- 
ton shot the warrior dead. Daniel Boone, with thirteen men, hastened 
to help his friends, but the*y were intercepted by a large body of In- 
dians, who got between them and the fort. At the first fire from the 
Indians, seven whites were wounded, among them Boone. An Indian 
sprang upon him with uplifted tomahawk; but Kenton, quick as a flash, 
sprang toward the Indian, discharged his gun into his breast, snatched 
up the body of his noble leader, and bore it safely into the fort. When 
the gate was closed securely against the Indians, Boone sent for Ken-, 
ton: "Well, Simon," said the grateful old pioneer, "you have behaved 
yourself like a man to-day — indeed, you are a fine fellow." Boone was 
a remarkably silent man, and this was great praise from him. 

Kentucky Sports — Boone Barking Squirrels by Rifle. 
1 

We have individuals in Kentucky, wrote Audubon, the famous nat- 
uralist, that, even there, are considered wonderful adepts in the manage- 
ment of the rifle. Having resided some years in Kentucky, and hav- 
ing more than once been witness of rifle sport, I shall present the re- 
sults of my observation, leaving the* reader to judge how far rifle shoot- 
ing is understood in that State : 



Kentucky Sports — Boone Barking Squirrels by Rifle. 291 

Several individuals who conceive themselves adepts in the manage- 
ment of the rifle, are often seen to meet for the purpose of displaying 
their skill ; and, betting a trifling sum, put up a target, in the centre of 
which, a common-sized nail is hammered for about two-thirds its length. 
The marksmen make choice of what they consider a proper distance, 
and which may be forty paces. Each man cleans the interior of his 
tube, which is called wiping it, places a ball in the palm of his hand, 
pouring as much powder from his horn as will cover it. This quantity 
is supposed to be sufficient for any distance short of a hundred yards. 
A shot which comes very close to the nail is considered that of an in- 
different marksman ; the bending of the nail is of course somewhat bet- 
ter ; but nothing less than hitting it right on the head is satisfactory. 
One out of the three shots generally hits the nail ; and should the 
shooters amount to half-a-dozen, two nails are frequently needed before 
each can have a shot. Those who drive the nail have a further trial 
among themselves, and the two best shots out of these generally settles 
the affair, when all the sportsmen adjourn to some house, and spend an 
hour or two in friendly intercourse, appointing, before they part, a day 
for another trial. This is technically termed, " driving the nail." 
' Barking of squirrels is delightful sport, and, in my opinion, requires 
a greater degree of accuracy than any other. I first witnessed this 
manner of procuring squirrels while near the town of Frankfort. The 
performer was the celebrated Daniel Boone. We walked out together 
and followed the rocky margins of the Kentucky river until we reached 
a piece of flat land, thickly covered with black walnuts, oaks, and 
hickories. As the general mast was a good one that year, squirrels were 
seen gamboling on every tree around us. My companion, a stout, hale, 
athletic man, dressed in a homespun hunting shirt, bare legged and 
moccasined, carried a long and heavy rifle, which, as he was loading, 
he said had proved efficient in all of his former undertakings, and which 
he hoped would not fail on this occasion, as he felt proud to show me 
his skill. The gun was wiped, the powder measured, the ball patched 
with six-hundred-thread linen, and a charge sent home with a hickory 
rod. We moved not a step from the place, for the squirrels were so 
thick that it was unnecessary to go after them. 

Boone pointed to one of these animals, which had observed us, and 
was crouched on a bough about fifty paces distant, and bade me mark 
well where the ball should hit. He raised his piece gradually until the 
bead or sight of the barrel was brought to a line with the spot he 
intended to hit. The whip-like report resounded through the woods 
and along the hills in repeated echoes. Judge of my surprise, when I 
perceived that the ball had hit the piece of bark immediately underneath 



292 Our Western Border. 

the squirrel and shivered it into splinters ; the concussion produced by 
which had killed the animal, and sent it whirling through the air as if 
it had been blown up by the explosion of a powder magazine. Boone 
kept up his firing, and before many hours had elapsed, we had pro- 
cured as many squirrels as we wished. Since that first interview with the 
veteran Boone, I have seen many other individuals perform the same 
feat. 

The snuffing of a candle with a ball, I first had an opportunity of see- 
ing near the banks of the Green river, not far from a large pigeon roost, 
to which I had previously made a visit. I had heard many reports of 
guns during the early part of a dark night, and knowing them to be 
those of rifles, I went forward towards the spot to ascertain the cause. 
On reaching the place I was welcomed by a dozen tall, stout men, who 
told me they were exercising for the purpose of enabling them to shoot 
after night, at the reflected light from the eyes of a deer or wolf by torch- 
light. A fire was blazing near, the smoke of which rose curling among 
the thick foliage of the trees. At a distance which rendered it scarcely 
distinguishable, stpod a burning candle, but which, in reality, was only 
fifty yards from the spot on which we all stood. One man was within 
a few yards of it to watch the effect of the shots, as well as to light the 
candle should it chance to go out, or to replace it should the shot cut it 
across. Each marksman shot in his turn. Some never hit either the 
snuff or the candle, and were congratulated with a loud laugh ; while 
others actually snuffed the candle without putting it out, and were 
recompensed for their dexterity with numerous hurrahs. One of them, 
who was particularly expert, was very fortunate, and snuffed the candle 
three times out of seven, while the other shots either put out the candle 
or cut it immediately under the light. 

Of the feats performed by the Kentuckians with the rifle, I might say 
more than might be expedient on the present occasion. By the way of 
recreation, they often cut off a piece of the bark of a tree, make a tar- 
get of it, using a little powder wetted with water or saliva, for the bulls- 
eye, and shoot into the mark all the balls they have about them, pick- 
ing them out of the wood again. 



General Simon Kenton, alias Butler. 293 



GENERAL SIMON KENTON, alias BUTLER. 
He has a Battle and Thinks He has Committed Murder. 

Tread lightly ! This is hallowed ground. Tread reverently here ! 

Beneath this sod, in silence, sleeps the brave old Pioneer ; 

Who never quailed in darkest hour ; whose heart ne'er felt a fear. 

Tread lightly, then ! and now bestow the tribute of a tear. 

For ever in the fiercest and the thickest of the fight, 

The dusk and swarthy foemen felt the terror of his might. — Wm. Hubbard. 

The most daring and adventurous of Boone's companions was the 
far-famed Simon Kenton, who was born in Fauquier county, Virginia, 
on the 15th of May, 1755, the ever-memorable year of Braddock's de- 
feat. Of his early years nothing is known. His parents were poor, 
and until the age of sixteen, his days seem to have passed away in the 
obscure and laborious drudgery of a farm. He was never taught to 
read or write, and to this is the poverty and desolation of his old age, 
in a great measure, to be attributed. At the age of sixteen, by an un- 
fortunate adventure, he was launched into life, with no other fortune 
than a stout heart and a robust set of limbs. 

It seems that, young as he was, his heart had become entangled in the 
snares of a young coquette in the neighborhood, who was grievously 
perplexed by the necessity of choosing one husband out of many lovers. 
Young Kenton and a robust farmer by the name of Leitchman — William 
Veach, according to Collins and McDonald — seem to have been the 
most favored suitors, and the young lady, not being able to decide 
upon their respective merits, they took the matter into their own hands, 
and, in consequence of foul play on the part of Leitchman's friends, 
young Kenton was beaten with great severity. He submitted to his 
fate for the time, in silence, but internally vowed that, as soon as he 
had obtained his full growth, he would take ample vengeance upon his 
rival for the disgrace he had sustained at his hands. He waited patient- 
ly until the following Spring, when, rinding himself six feet high and 
full of health and action, he determined to delay the hour of retribu- 
tion no longer. 

He accordingly walked over to Leitchman's house one morning, and 
finding him busily engaged in carrying shingles from the woods, he 
stopped him, told him his object, and desired him to adjourn to a spot 
more convenient for the purpose. Leitchman, confident in his superior 
age and strength, was not backward to indulge him in so amiable a 



294 Our Western Border. 

pastime, and having reached a solitary spot in the woods, they both 
stripped and prepared for the encounter. The battle was fought with 
all the fury which mutual hate, jealousy, and herculean power on both 
sides, could supply, and after a severe round, in which considerable 
damage was done and received, Kenton was brought to the ground. 
Leitchman (as usual in Virginia) sprang upon him without the least 
scruple, and added the most bitter taunts to the kicks with which he 
saluted him, from his head to his heels, reminding him of his former 
defeat, and rubbing salt into the raw wounds of jealousy by triumphant 
allusions to his own superiority both in love and war. During these 
active operations on the part of Leitchman, Kenton lay perfectly still, 
eying attentively a small bush which grew near him. It instantly oc- 
curred to him that if he could wind Leitchman' s hair, (which was re- 
markably long,) around this bush, he would be able to return those 
kicks which were now bestowed upon him in such profusion. The dif- 
ficulty was to get his antagonist near enough. This he at length 
effected in the good old Virginia style, viz.: by biting him en arriere, 
and compelling him, by short springs, to approach the bush, much as a 
bullock is goaded on to approach the fatal ring, where all his struggles 
are useless. When near enough, Kenton suddenly exerted himself vio- 
lently, and succeeded in wrapping the long hair of his rival around the 
sapling. He then sprung to his feet, and inflicted a terrible revenge 
for all his past injuries. In a few seconds Leitchman was gasping, ap- 
parently in the agonies of death. Kenton instantly fled, without even 
returning for an additional supply of clothing, and directed his steps 
westward. This was in April, 177 1. 

During the first day of his journey, he traveled in much agitation. 
He supposed that Leitchman was dead, and that the hue and cry would 
instantly be raised after himself as the murderer. The constant appre- 
hension of a gallows lent wings to his flight, and he scarcely allowed 
himself a moment for refreshment, until he had reached the neighbor- 
hood of the Warm Springs, where the settlements were thin and the 
immediate danger of pursuit was over. Here, he fortunately fell in 
with an exile from the State of New Jersey, of the name of Johnson, 
who was traveling westward on foot, and driving a single pack-horse, 
laden with a few necessaries, before him. They soon became acquaint- 
ed, related their adventures to each other, and agreed to travel together. 
They plunged boldly into the wilderness of the Allegheny mountains, 
and subsisting upon wild game and a small quantity of flour, which 
Johnson had brought with him, they made no halt until they arrived at 
a small settlement on Cheat river, one of the prongs of the Monon- 
gahela. 



General Simon Kenton, alias Butler. 295 

Here the two friends separated, and Kenton (who had assumed the 
name of Butler) attached himself to a small company headed by John 
Mahon and Jacob Greathouse, who had united for the purpose of ex- 
ploring the country. They quickly built a large canoe, and descended 
the river as far as the Province's settlement. There Kenton became 
acquainted with two young adventurers, Yager and Strader, the former 
of whom had been taken by the Indians when a child, and had spent 
many years in their village. He informed Kenton that there was a 
country below, which the Indians called Kan-tuck-ee, which was a per- 
fect Elysium: that the ground was not only the richest, and the vege- 
tation the most luxuriant in the world, but that the immense herds of 
buffalo and elk, which ranged at large through its forests, would appear 
incredible to one who had never witnessed such a spectacle. He added, 
that it was entirely uninhabited, and was open to all who chose to hunt 
there; that he himself had often accompanied the Indians in their 
grand hunting parties through the country, and was confident that he 
could conduct him to the same ground, if he was willing to venture. 

Kenton closed with the proposal, and announced his readiness to 
accompany him immediately. A canoe was speedily procured, and the 
three young men committed themselves to the waters of the Ohio, in 
search of the enchanted hunting ground, which Yager had visited in his 
youth, while a captive among the Indians. Yager had no idea of its 
exact distance from Province's settlement. He recollected only that he 
had crossed the Ohio in order to reach it, and declared that, by sailing 
down the river for a few days, they would come to the spot where the 
Indians were accustomed to cross, and assured Kenton that there would 
be no difficulty in recognizing it ; that its appearance was different from 
all the rest of the world, &c. 

Fired by Yager's glowing description of its beauty, and eager to 
reach this new Eldorado of the west, the young men rowed hard for 
several days, confidently expecting that every bend of the river would- 
usher them into the land of promise. No such country, however, ap- 
peared : and at length Kenton and Strader became rather skeptical as 
to its existence at all. They rallied Yager freely upon the subject, who 
still declared positively that they would soon witness the confirmation 
Of all that he had said. After descending, however, as low as the spot 
where Manchester now stands, and seeing nothing which resembled 
Yager's country, they held a council, in which it was determined to re- 
turn and survey the country more carefully — Yager still insisting that they 
must have passed it in the night. They accordingly retraced their steps, 
and successively explored the land about Salt Lick, Little and Big Sandy, 
and Guyandotte. At length, being totally wearied out in searching for 



296 Our Western Border. 

what had no existence, they turned their attention entirely to hunting 
and trapping, and spent nearly two years upon the Great Kanawha, in 
this agreeable and profitable occupation. They obtained clothing in 
exchange for their furs, from the traders of Fort Pitt, and the forest 
supplied them abundantly with wild game for food. 

In March, 1773, while reposing in their tent after the labors of the 
day, they were suddenly attacked by a party of Indians. Strader was 
killed at the first fire, and Kenton and Yager with difficulty effected 
their escape, being compelled to abandon their guns, blankets and pro- 
visions, and commit themselves to the wilderness, without the means of 
sheltering themselves from the cold, procuring a morsel of food, or even 
kindling a fire. They were far removed from any white settlement, and 
had no other prospect than that of perishing by famine, or falling a 
sacrifice to the fury of such Indians as might chance to meet them. 
Reflecting, however, that it was never too late for men to make an 
effort against being utterly lost, they determined to strike through the 
woods for the Ohio river, and take such fortune as it should please 
heaven to bestow. 

Directing their route by the barks of trees, they pressed forward in a 
straight direction for the Ohio, and during the first two days allayed 
the piercing pangs of hunger by chewing such roots as they could find 
on their way. On the third day their strength began to fail, and the 
keen appetite which at first had constantly tortured them, was succeeded 
by a nausea, accompanied with dizziness and sinking of the heart, bor- 
dering on despair. On the fourth day they often threw themselves* 
upon the ground, determined to await the approach of death — and as 
often were stimulated by the instinctive love of life, to arise and resume 
their journey. On the fifth, they were completely exhausted, and were 
able only to crawl, at intervals. In this manner, they traveled about a mile 
during the day, and succeeded, by sunset, in reaching the banks of the 
Ohio. Here, to their inexpressible joy, they encountered a party of 
traders, from whom they obtained a comfortable supply of provisions. 

The traders were so much startled at the idea of being exposed to 
perils, such as those which Kenton and Yager had just escaped, that 
they lost no time in removing from such a dangerous vicinity, and in- 
stantly returned to the mouth of the Little Kanawha, where they met 
with Dr. Briscoe at the head of another exploring party. From him 
Kenton obtained a rifle and some ammunition, with which he again 
plunged alone into the forest and hunted with success until the Summer 
of '73 was far advanced. Returning, then, to the Little Kanawha, he 
found a party of fourteen men, under the direction of Dr. Wood and 
Hancock Lee, who were descending the Ohio with the view of joining 




Herds of Elk and Buffalo. 297 

Captain Bullitt, who was supposed to be at the mouth of Scioto, with a 
large party. Kenton instantly joined them, and descended the river in 
canoes as far as the Three Islands, landing frequently and examining the 
country on each side of the river. At the Three Islands they were 
alarmed by the approach of a large party of Indians, by whom they 
were compelled to abandon their canoes and strike diagonally through 
the wilderness for Greenbriar county, Virginia. They suffered much 
during this journey from fatigue and famine, and were compelled at one 
time (notwithstanding the danger of their situation,) to halt for iour- 
teen days and wait upon Dr. Wood, who had unfortunately been bitten 
by a copperhead snake, and rendered incapable of moving for that length 
of time. Upon reaching the settlements the party separated. 

Kenton, not wishing to venture to Virginia, (having heard nothing 
of Leitchman's recovery,) built a canoe on the banks of the Mononga- 
hela, and returned to the mouth of the Great Kanawha, hunted with 
success until the spring of '74, when the war, called sometimes Dun- 
more's and sometimes Cresap's war, broke out between the Indian 
tribes and the colonies, occasioned, in a great measure, by the murder 
of the family of the celebrated Indian chief, Logan. Kenton was not 
in the great battle near the mouth of the Kanawha, but, with the noto- 
rious renegade, Simon Girty, acted as a spy throughout the whole of the 
campaign, in the course of which he traversed the country around Fort 
Pitt and a large part of the present State of Ohio. 

When Dunmore's forces were disbanded, Kenton, in company with 
two others, determined on making a second effort to discover the rich 
lands bordering on the Ohio, of which Yager had spoken. Having 
built a canoe and provided themselves abundantly with ammunition, 
they descended the river as far as the mouth ot Big Bone Creek, upon 
which the celebrated Lick of that name is situated. They there disem- 
barked, and explored the country for several days; but not finding the 
land equal to their expectations, they reascended the river as far as the 
mouth of Cabin Creek, a few miles above Maysville. 

Herds of Elk and Buffalo — Hendricks Burnt — Kenton's Fight. 

From this point they set out with a determination to examine the 
country carefully until they could find land answering in some degree 
to Yager's description. In a short time they reached the neighborhood 
of Mayslick, and, for the first time, were struck with the uncommon 
beauty of the country and fertility of the soil. Here they fell in with 
the great buffalo trace, which, in a few hours, brought them to the Lower 
Blue Lick. The flats upon each side of the river were crowded with 



298 Our Western Border. 

immense herds of buffalo that had come down from the interior for the 
sake of the salt, and a number of elk were seen upon the bare ridges 
which surrounded the springs. Their great object was now achieved. 
They had discovered a country far more rich than any which they had 
yet beheld, and where the game seemed as abundant as the grass of the 
plain. 

After remaining a few days at the Lick, and killing an immense num- 
ber of deer and buffalo, they crossed the Licking and passed through 
the present counties of Scott, Fayette, Woodford, Clarke, Montgomery 
and Bath, when, falling in with another buffalo trace, it conducted them 
to the Upper Blue Lick, where they again beheld elk and buffalo in im- 
mense numbers. Highly gratified at the success of their expedition, 
they quickly returned to their canoe, and ascended the river as far as 
Green Bottom, where they had left their skins, some ammunition and a 
few hoes, which they had procured at Kanawha, with the view of culti- 
vating the rich ground which they expected to find. 

Returning as quickly as possible, they built a cabin on the spot where 
the town of Washington, Ky., now stands, and having cleared an acre 
of ground in the centre of a large canebrake, they planted it with In- 
dian corn. Strolling about the country in various directions, they one 
day fell in with two white men, near the Lower Blue Lick, who had lost 
their guns, blankets and ammunition, and were much distressed for pro- 
visions and the means of extricating themselves from the wilderness. 
They informed them that their names were Fitzpatrick and Hendricks; 
that, in descending the Ohio, their canoe had been overset by a sudden 
squall; that they were compelled to swim ashore, without being able to 
save anything from the wreck; that they had wandered thus far through 
the woods, in the effort to penetrate through the country to the settle- 
ments above, but must infallibly perish unless they could be furnished 
with guns and ammunition. Kenton informed them of the small set- 
tlement which he had opened at Washington, and invited them to join 
him and share such fortune as Providence might bestow. Hendricks 
consented to remain, but Fitzpatrick, being heartily sick of the woods, 
insisted upon returning to the Monongahela. Kenton and his two 
friends accompanied Fitzpatrick to "the point," as it was then called, 
being the spot where Maysville now stands, and having given him a 
gun, &c, assisted him in crossing the river, and took leave of him on 
the other side. 

In the meantime, Hendricks had been left at the Blue Licks, without 
a gun, but with a good supply of provisions, until the party could return 
from the river. As soon as Fitzpatrick had gone, Kenton and his two 
friends hastened to return to the Lick, not doubting for a moment that 



Hendricks Burnt — Kenton's Fight. 299 

they would find Hendricks in camp as they had left him. Upon arriving 
at the point where the tent stood, however, they were alarmed at 
finding it deserted, with evident marks of violence around it. Several 
bullet holes were to be seen in the poles of which it was constructed, 
and various articles belonging to Hendricks were tossed about in too 
negligent a manner to warrant the belief that it had been done by him. 
At a little distance from the camp, in a low ravine, they observed a 
thick, smoke, as if from a fire just beginning to burn. They did not 
doubt for a moment that Hendricks had fallen into the hands of the In- 
dians, and believing that a party of them were then assembled around 
the fire which was about to be kindled, they betook themselves to their 
heels, and fled faster and farther than true chivalry perhaps would jus- 
tify. 

They remained at a distance until the evening of the next day, when 
they ventured cautiously to return to camp. The fire was still burning, 
although faintly, and after carefully reconnoitering the adjacent ground, 
they ventured at length to approach the spot, and there beheld the skull 
and bones of their unfortunate friend. He had evidently been roasted 
to death by a party of Indians, and must have been alive at the time 
when Kenton and his companion approached on the preceding day. It 
was a subject of deep regret to the party that they had not reconnoi- 
tered the spot more closely, as it was probable that their friend might 
have been rescued. The number of Indians might have been small, 
and a brisk ^and unexpected attack might have dispersed them. Regret, 
however, was now unavailing, and they sadly retraced their steps to 
their camp at Washington, pondering upon the uncertainty of their own 
condition, and upon the danger to which they were hourly exposed 
from the numerous bands of hostile Indians who were prowling around 
them in every direction. 

They remained at Washington, entirely undisturbed, until the month 
of September, when again visiting the Lick, they saw a white man, who 
informed them that the interior of the country was already occupied by 
the whites, and that there was a thriving settlement at Boonsborough. 
Highly gratified at this intelligence, and anxious once more to enjoy the 
society of men, they broke up their encampment at Washington, and 
visited the different stations which had been formed in the country. 
Kenton sustained two sieges in Boonsborough, and served as a spy, with 
equal diligence and success, until the summer of '78, when Boone, re- 
turning from captivity, as has already been mentioned, concerted an 
expedition against the small Indian towns on Paint Creek. 

Kenton acted as a spy on this expedition, and after crossing the Ohio, 
being some distance in advance of the rest, he was suddenly startled by 



300 Our Western Border. 

hearing a loud laugh from an adjoining thicket, which he was just about 
to enter. Instantly halting, he took his station behind a tree, and waited 
anxiously for a repetition of the noise. In a few minutes two Indians 
approached the spot where he lay, both mounted upon a small pony, 
and chatting and laughing in high good humor. Having permitted 
them to approach within good rifle distance, he raised his gun, and aim- 
ing at the breast of the foremost, pulled the trigger. Both Indians fell 
— one shot dead, the other severely wounded. Their frightened pony 
galloped back into the cane, giving the alarm to the rest of the party, 
who were some distance in the rear. Kenton instantly ran up to scalp 
the dead man and to tomahawk his wounded companion, according to 
the usual rule of western warfare; but, when about to put an end to the 
struggles of the wounded Indian, who did not seem disposed to submit 
very quietly to the operation, his attention was arrested by a rustling in 
the cane on his right, and turning rapidly in that direction, he beheld 
two Indians within twenty steps of him, very deliberately taking aim at 
his person. 

A quick spring to one side, on his part, was instantly followed by 
the flash and report of their rifles — the balls whistled close to his ears, 
causing him involuntarily to duck his head, but doing him no injury. 
Not liking so hot a neighborhood, and ignorant of the number which 
might be behind, he lost no time in regaining the shelter of the woods, 
leaving the dead Indian unscalped and the wounded man to the care of 
his friends. Scarcely had he treed, when a dozen Indians appeared on 
the edge of the canebrake, and seemed disposed to press on him with 
more vigor than was consistent with the safety of his present position. 
His fears, however, were instantly relieved by the appearance of Boone 
and his party, who came running up as rapidly as a due regard for the 
shelter of their persons would permit, and opening a brisk fire upon the 
Indians, quickly compelled them to regain the shelter of the canebrake, 
with the loss of several wounded, who, as usual, were carried off. The 
dead Indian, in the hurry of the retreat, was abandoned, and Kenton 
at last had the gratification of taking his scalp. 

Boone, as has already been mentioned, instantly retraced his steps to 
Boonsborough j but Kenton and his friend Montgomery determined to 
proceed alone to the Indian town, and at least to obtain some recom- 
pense for the trouble of their journey. Approaching the village with 
the cautious stealthy pace of the cat or panther, they took their station 
upon the edge of a cornfield, supposing that the Indians would enter 
it, as usual, to gather roasting ears. They remained here patiently all 
day, but did not see a single Indian, and heard only the voices of some 
children who were playing near them. Being disappointed in the hope 



Kenton Passes Through Some Remarkable Adventures. 301 

of getting a shot, they entered the Indian town in the night, and steal- 
ing four good horses, made a rapid night's march for the Ohio, which 
they crossed in safety, and on the second day afterwards reached Lo- 
gan's fort with their booty. 

Scarcely had he returned, when Colonel Bowman ordered him to take 
his friend Montgomery, and another young man named Clark, and go 
on a secret expedition to an Indian town on the Little Miami, against 
which the Colonel meditated an expedition, and of the exact condition 
of which he wished to have certain information. They instantly set out, 
in obedience to their orders, and reached the neighborhood of the town 
without being discovered. They examined it attentively, and walked 
around the houses during the night with perfect impunity. 

Kenton Passes Through Some Remarkable Adventures. 

Thus far all had gone well — and had they been contented to return 
after the due execution of their orders, they would have avoided the 
heavy calamity which awaited them. But, unfortunately during their 
nightly promenade, they stumbled upon a pound in which were a num- 
ber of Indian horses. The temptation was not to be resisted. They 
each mounted a horse, but not satisfied with that, they could not find 
it in their hearts to leave a single animal behind them, and as some of 
the horses seemed indisposed to change masters, the affair was attended 
with so much fracas, that at last they were discovered. The cry ran 
through the village at once, that the Long Knives were stealing their 
horses right before the doors of their wigwams, and old and young, 
squaws, boys and warriors, all sallied out with loud screams to save their 
property from these greedy spoilers. Kenton and his friends quickly 
discovered that they had overshot the mark, and that they must ride for 
their lives ; but even in this extremity, they could not bring themselves 
to give up a single horse which they had haltered; while two of them 
rode in front and led the horses, the other brought up the rear, and 
plying his whip from right to left, did not permit a single animal to 
lag behind. 

In this manner they dashed through the woods at a furious rate, 
with the hue and cry after them, until their course was suddenly stopped 
by an impenetrable swamp. Here, from necessity, they paused for a 
few moments and listened attentively. Hearing no sounds of pursuit, 
they resumed their course, and skirting the swamp for some distance, in 
the vain hope of crossing it, they bent their course in a straight direc- 
tion towards the Ohio. They rode during the whole night without rest- 
ing a moment — and halting for a few minutes at daylight, they con- 



302 Our Western Border. 

tinued their journey throughout the day, and the whole of the following 
night, and by this uncommon expedition, on the morning of the second 
day they reached the northern bank of the Ohio. Crossing the river 
would now ensure their safety, but this was likely to prove a difficult 
undertaking, and the close pursuit which they had reason to expect, 
rendered it necessary to lose as little time as possible. The wind was 
high and the river rough and boisterous. It was determined that Ken- 
ton should cross with the horses, while Clark and Montgomery should 
construct a raft in order to transport their guns, baggage and ammuni- 
tion to the opposite shore. 

The necessary preparations were soon made, and Kenton, after forc- 
ing his horses into the river, plunged in himself and swam by their side. 
In a very few minutes the high waves completely overwhelmed him and 
forced him considerably below the horses, which stemmed the current 
much more vigorously than himself. The horses being thus left to 
themselves, turned about and swam again to the shore, where Kenton 
was compelled to follow them. Again he forced them into the water, and 
again they returned to the same spot, until Kenton became so exhausted 
by repeated efforts as to be unable to swim. A council was then held 
and the question proposed : "What was to be done?" That the In- 
dians would pursue them, was certain — that the horses would not, and 
could not be made to cross the river in its present state, was equally 
certain. Should they abandon their horses and cross on the raft, or re- 
main with their horses and take such fortune as heaven should send ? 
The latter alternative was unanimously adopted. 

Should they now move up or down the river, or remain where they 
were ? The latter course was adopted. It was supposed that the wind 
would fall at sunset, and the river become sufficiently calm to admit of 
their passage, and as it was supposed that the Indians might be upon 
them before night, it was determined to conceal the horses in a neigh- 
boring ravine, while they should take their stations in the adjoining 
woods. A more miserable plan could not have been adopted. The day 
passed away in tranquility, but at night the wind blew harder than ever, 
and the waters became so rough that even their raft would have been 
scarcely able to cross. Not an instant more should have been lost in 
moving from so dangerous a post ; but, as if totally infatuated, they re- 
mained where they were until morning — thus wasting twenty-four hours 
of most precious time in total idleness. In the morning the wind 
abated, and the river became calm — but it was now too late. Their 
horses, recollecting the difficulty of the passage on the preceding day, 
had become as obstinate and heedless as their masters, and positively 
and repeatedly refused to take the water. 



Kenton Passes Through Some Remarkable Adventures. 303 

Finding every effort to compel them entirely unavailing, their mas- 
ters at length determined to do what ought to have been done at first. 
Each resolved to mount a horse and make the best of his way down the 
river to Louisville. Had even this resolution, however tardily adopted, 
been executed with decision, the party would probably have been saved, 
but, after they were mounted, instead of leaving the ground instantly, 
they went back upon their own trail, in the vain effort to regain posses- 
sion of the rest of their horses, which had broken from them in the last 
effort to drive them into the water. They thus wearied out their good 
genius, and literally fell victims to their love for horse-flesh. 

They had scarcely ridden one hundred yards, (Kenton in the centre, 
the others upon the flanks, with an interval of two hundred yards be- 
tween them,) when Kenton heard a loud halloo, apparently coming 
from the spot which they had just left. Instead of getting out of the 
way as fast as possible, and trusting to the speed of his horse and the 
thickness of the wood for safety, he put the last cap-stone to his impru- 
dence, and, dismounting, walked leisurely back to meet his pursuers, 
as if to give them as little trouble as possible. He quickly beheld three 
Indians and one white man, all well mounted. Wishing to give the 
alarm to his companions, he raised his rifle to his shoulders, took a 
steady aim at the breast of the foremost Indian, and drew the trigger. 
His gun had become wet on the raft, and flashed. The enemy were in- 
stantly alarmed, and dashed at him. 

Now, at last, when flight could be of no service, Kenton betook him- 
self to his heels, and was pursued by four horsemen at full speed. He 
instantly directed his steps to the thickest part of the woods, where there 
was much fallen timber and rankness of underwood, and had succeeded, 
as he thought, in baffling his pursuers, when, just as he was leaving the 
fallen timber and entering the open woods, an Indian on horseback gal- 
loped round the corner of the woods, and approached him so rapidly as 
to render flight useless. The horseman rode up, holding out his hand 
and calling out, "brother! brother!" in a tone of great affection. 
Kenton observed that if his gun would have made fire he would have 
"brothered" him to his heart's content, but, being totally unarmed, he 
called out that he would surrender if he would give him quarter and 
good treatment. Promises were cheap with the Indians, and he 
showered them out by the dozen, continuing all the while to advance 
with extended hands and a writhing grin upon his countenance, which 
was intended for a smile of courtesy. Seizing Kenton's hand, he 
grasped it with violence. 

Kenton, not liking the manner of his captor, raised his gun to knock 
him down, when an Indian, who had followed him closely through the 



304 Our Western Border. 

• 
brushwood, instantly sprang upon his back and pinioned his arms to his 
side. The one who had just approached him then seized him by the 
hair and shook him until his teeth rattled, while the rest of the party 
coming up, they all fell upon Kenton with their tongues and ramrods, 
until he thought they would scold or beat him to death. They were 
the owners of the horses which he had carried off, and now took ample 
revenge for the loss of their property. At every stroke of their ram- 
rods over his head, (and they were neither few nor far between,) they 
would repeat, in a tone of strong indignation, " Steal Indian hoss ! ! 
hey ! !" 

Their attention, however, was soon directed to Montgomery, who, 
having heard the noise attending Kenton's capture, very gallantly has- 
tened up to his assistance ; while Clark very prudently consulted his 
own safety by betaking himself to his heels, leaving his unfortunate 
companions to shift for themselves. Montgomery halted within gun- 
shot, and appeared busy with the pan of his gun, as if preparing to fire. 
Two Indians instantly sprang off in pursuit of him, while the rest at- 
tended to Kenton. In a few minutes Kenton heard the crack of two 
rifles in quick succession, followed by a halloo, which announced the 
fate of his friend. The Indians quickly returned, waving the bloody 
scalp of Montgomery, and with countenances and gestures which 
menaced him with a similar fate. They then proceeded to secure their 
prisoner. They first compelled him to lie upon his back and stretch 
out his arms to their full length. They then passed a stout stick at 
right angles across his breast, to each extremity of which his wrists were 
fastened by thongs made of buffalo's hide. Stakes were then driven 
into the earth near his feet, to which they were fastened in a similar 
manner. A halter was then tied around his neck and fastened to a 
sapling which grew near, and finally a strong rope was passed under his 
body, lashed strongly to the pole which lay transversely upon his breast, 
and finally wrapped around his arms at the elbows, in such a manner as 
to pinion them to the pole with a painful violence, and render him 
literally incapable of moving hand, foot or head, in the slightest 
manner. 



Kenton Tries a Mazeppa Ride. 305 



Kenton Tries a Mazeppa Ride— Escape and Recapture. 

They tied his hands, Mazeppa like 

And set him on his steed, 
Wild as the mustang of the plains, 

And, mocking, bade him speed. 
Then sped the courser like the wind, 

Of curb and bit all freed, 
O'er flood and field ; o'er hill and dale, 

Wherever chance might lead. 

During the whole of this severe operation, neither their tongues nor 
hands were by any means idle. They cuffed him from time to time, 
with great heartiness, until his ears rang again, and abused him for (C a 

teef ! a hoss steal !— a rascal ! " and, finally, for a " d — d white man! " 

All the western Indians had picked up a good many English words — 
particularly our oaths, which, from the frequency with which they were 
used by our hunters and traders, they probably looked upon as the very 
root and foundation of the English language. Kenton remained in this 
painful attitude throughout the night, looking forward to certain death, 
and most probable torture, as soon as he reached their towns. Their 
rage against him seemed to increase rather than abate, from indulgence, 
and in the morning it displayed itself in a form at once ludicrous and 

cruel . 

Among the horses which Kenton had taken, and which their original, 
owners had now recovered, was a fine but wild young colt, totally un- 
broken and with all his honors of mane and tail undocked. Upon him 
Kenton was mounted, without saddle or bridle, with his hands tied be- 
hind him, and his feet fastened under the horse's belly. The country 
was rough and bushy, and Kenton had no means of protecting his face 
from the brambles, through which it was expected that the colt would 
dash. As soon as the rider was firmly fastened upon his back, the colt 
was turned loose with a sudden lash, and dashed off like a dart through 
the briars and underbrush, but after executing many curvets and 
caprioles, to the great distress of his rider but to the infinite amuse- 
ment of the Indians, he appeared to take compassion upon his rider, 
and falling into a line with the other horses, avoided the brambles en- 
tirely, and went on very well. In this manner he rode through the day. 
At night he was taken from the horse and confined as before. 

On the third day they came within a few miles of Chillicothe. Here 
the party halted and dispatched a messenger to inform the village of 
their arrival, in order to give them time to prepare for his reception. 
In a short time Blackfish, one of their chiefs, arrived, and regarding Ken- 
ton with a stern countenance, thundered out, in very good English, 



306 Our Western Border. 

" You have been stealing horses?" "Yes, sir." " Did Captain Boone 
tell you to steal our horses? " " No, sir ; I did it of my own accord." 
This frank confession was too irritating to be borne. Blackfish made 
no reply, but brandished a hickory switch, which he held in his hand, 
and applied it so briskly to Kenton's naked back and shoulders, as to 
bring the blood freely, and occasion acute pain. 

Thus alternately beaten and scolded, he marched on to the village. 
At the distance of a mile from Chillicothe, he saw every inhabitant of 
the town, men, women and children, running o.ut to feast their eyes 
with a view of the prisoner. Every individual, down to the smallest 
child, appeared in a paroxysm of rage. They whooped, they yelled, 
they hooted, they clapped their hands, and poured upon him a flood of 
abuse to which all that he had yet received was gentleness and civility. 
With loud cries they demanded that their prisoner should be tied to the 
stake. The hint was instantly complied with. A stake was quickly 
fastened in the ground. The remnants of Kenton's shirt and breeches 
were torn from his person, (the squaws officiating with great dexterity 
in both operations,) and his hands being tied together and raised above 
his head, were fastened to the top of the stake. The whole party then 
danced around him until midnight, yelling and screaming in their usual 
frantic manner, striking him with switches, and slapping him with the 
palms of their hands. He expected every moment to undergo the 
torture of fire, but that was reserved for another time. They wished 
to prolong the pleasure of tormenting him as much as possible, and after 
having caused him to anticipate the bitterness of death until a late 
hour of the night, they released him from his stake and conveyed him 
to the village. 

Early in the morning he beheld the scalp of Montgomery stretched 
upon a hoop, and drying in the air before the door of one of their 
principal houses. He was quickly led out and ordered to run the gaunt- 
let. A row of boys, women and men extended to the distance of a 
quarter of a mile. At the starting place stood two grim-looking war- 
riors, with butcher knives in their hands — at the extremity of the line 
was an Indian beating a drum, and a few paces beyond the drum was 
the door of the council house. Clubs, switches, hoe handles and toma- 
hawks were brandished along the whole line, causing the sweat involun- 
tarily to stream from his pores, at the idea of the discipline which his 
naked skin was to receive during the race. The moment for starting 
arrived — the great drum at the door of the council house was struck — 
and Kenton sprung forward in the race. He avoided the row of his 
enemies, and turning to the east, drew the whole party in pursuit of 
him. He doubled several times with great activity, and at length, ob- ' 



Escape and Recapture. 307 

serving an opening, he darted through it, and pressed forward to the 
council house with a rapidity which left his pursuers far behind. One 
or two of the Indians succeeded in throwing themselves between him 
and the goal — and from these alone he received a few blows, but was 
much less injured than he could at first have supposed possible. 

As soon as the race was over, a council was held in order to deter- 
mine whether he should be burnt to death on the spot, or carried round 
to the other villages and exhibited to every tribe. The arbiters of his 
fate sat in a circle on the floor of the council house, while the unhappy 
prisoner, naked and bound, was committed to the care of a guard in 
the open air. The deliberation commenced. Each warrior sat in 
silence, while a large war club was passed round the circle. Those who 
were opposed to burning the prisoner on the spot were to pass the club 
in silence to the next warrior; those in favor of burning, were to strike 
the earth violently with the club before passing it. A teller was ap- 
pointed to count the votes. This dignitary quickly reported that the 
opposition had prevailed; that his execution was suspended for the 
present, and that it was determined to take him to an Indian town on Mad 
river called Wappatomica. His fate was quickly announced to him 
by a renegade white man, who acted as interpreter. Kenton felt re- 
joiced at the issue, but naturally became anxious to know what was in 
reserve for him at Wappatomica. He accordingly asked the white 
man what the Indians intended to do with him upon reaching the 
appointed place: "Burn you, G d d n you ! ! ! " was the fero- 
cious reply. He asked no further question, and the scowling interpre- 
ter walked away. 

Instantly preparations were made for his departure, and to his great 
joy, as well as astonishment, his clothes were restored to him, and he 
was permitted to remain unbound. Thanks to the ferocious intimation 
of the interpreter, he was aware of the fate in reserve for him, and 
secretly determined that he would never reach Wappatomica alive if 
it was possible to avoid it. Their route lay through an unpruned for- 
est, abounding in thickets and undergrowth. Unbound, as he was, it 
would not be impossible to escape from the hands of his conductors ; 
and if he could once enter the thickets, he thought that he might be 
enabled to baffle his pursuers. At the worst, he could only be retaken — 
and the fire would burn no hotter after an attempt to escape than be- 
fore. During the whole of their march, he remained abstracted and 
silent — often meditating an effort for liberty, and as often shrinking 
from the peril of the attempt. 

At length he was aroused from his reverie by the Indians firing off 
their guns and raising the shrill scalp halloo. The signal was soon 



BOS Our Western Border. 

answered, and the deep roll of a drum was heard far in front, an- 
nouncing to the unhappy prisoner that they were approaching an In- 
dian town where the gauntlet, certainly, and perhaps the stake, awaited 
him. The idea of a repetition of the dreadful scenes which he had 
already encountered, completely banished the indecision which had hith- 
erto withheld him, and with a sudden and startling cry he sprang into 
the bushes and fled with the speed of a wild deer. The pursuit was in- 
stant and keen, some on foot, some on horseback. But he. was flying 
for his life — the stake and the hot iron, and the burning splinters 
were before his eyes — and he soon distanced the swiftest hunter that pur- 
sued him. But fate was against him at every turn. Thinking only of 
the enemy behind,' he forgot that there might also be enemies in front, 
and before he was aware of what he had done, he found that he had 
plunged into the centre of a fresh party of horsemen, who had sallied 
from the town at the firing of the guns, and happened unfortunately to 
stumble upon the poor prisoner, now making a last effort for freedom. 
His heart sunk at once from the ardor of hope to the very pit of 
despair, and he was again haltered and driven before them to town like 
an ox to the slaughter house. 

Upon reaching the village, (Pickaway,) he was fastened to a stake 
near the door of the council house, and the warriors again assembled in 
debate. In a short time they issued from the council house and, sur- 
rounding him, they danced, yelled, &c, for several hours, giving him 
once more a foretaste of the bitterness of death. On the following 
morning their journey was continued, but the Indians had now become 
watchful, and gave him no opportunity of even attempting an escape. 
On the second day he arrived at Wappatomica. Here he was again 
compelled to run the gauntlet, in which he was severely hurt ; and 
immediately after this ceremony he was taken to the council house, and 
all the warriors once more assembled to determine his fate. 

He sat silent and dejected upon the floor of the cabin, awaiting the 
moment which was to deliver him to the stake, when the door of the 
council house opened, and Simon Girty, James Girty, John Ward and 
an Indian, came in with a woman (Mrs. Mary Kennedy) as a prisoner, 
together with seven children and seven scalps. Kenton was instantly 
removed from the council house, and the deliberations of the assembly 
were protracted to a very late hour, in consequence of the arrival of the 
last-named party with a fresh drove of prisoners. 



Simon Girty Saves his Friend. 309 



Simon Girty Intercedes and Saves his Friend. 

At length he was again summoned to attend the council house, being 
informed that his fate was decided. Regarding the mandate as a mere 
prelude to the stake and fire, which he knew were intended for him, he 
obeyed it with a calm despair which had now succeeded the burning 
anxiety of the last few days. Upon entering the council house he was 
greeted with a savage scowl, which, if he had still cherished a spark of 
hope, would have completely extinguished it. Simon Girty threw a 
blanket upon the floor, and harshly ordered him to take a seat upon it. 
The order was not immediately complied with, and Girty impatiently 
seized his arm, jerked him roughly upon the blanket, and pulled him 
down upon it. In the same rough and menacing tone, Girty then in- 
terrogated him as to the condition of Kentucky. " How many men 
are there in Kentucky?" "It is impossible for me to answer that ques- 
tion," replied Kenton, " but I can tell you the number of officers and 
their respective ranks — you can then judge for yourself." "Do you 
know William Stewart?" "Perfectly well — he is an old and intimate 
acquaintance." "What is your own name?" "Simon Butler !" re- 
plied Kenton. 

Never did the annunciation of a name produce a more powerful 
effect. Girty and Kenton (then bearing the name of Butler) had 
served as spies together in Dunmore's expedition. The former had not 
then abandoned the society of the whites for that of the savages, and 
had become warmly attached to Kenton during the short .period of their 
services together. As soon as he heard the name he became strongly 
agitated, and, springing from his seat, he threw his arms around Ken- 
ton's neck, and embraced him with much emotion. Then turning to 
the assembled warriors, who remained astonished spectators of this ex- 
traordinary scene, he addressed them in a short speech, which the deep 
earnestness of his tone and the energy of his gesture rendered elo- 
quent. He informed them that the prisoner, whom they had just con- 
demned to the stake, was his ancient comrade and bosom friend; that 
they had traveled the same war path, slept under the same blanket, and 
dwelt in the same wigwam. He entreated them to have compassion 
upon his feelings — to spare him the agony of witnessing the torture of 
an old friend by the hands of his adopted brothers — and not to refuse 
so trifling a favor as the life of a white man, to the earnest intercession 
of one who had proved by the most faithful service, that he was sin- 
cerely and zealously devoted to the cause of the Indians. 

The speech was listened to in unbroken silence. As soon as he had 



310 Our Western Border. 

finished, several chiefs expressed their approbation by a deep guttural 
interjection, while others were equally as forward in making known their 
objections to the proposal. They urged that his fate had already been 
determined in a large and solemn council, and that they would be act- 
ing like squaws to change their minds every hour. They insisted upon 
the flagrant misdemeanor of Kenton ; that he had not only stolen their 
horses, but had flashed his gun at one of their young men — that it was 
in vain to suppose that so bad a man could ever become an Indian at 
heart, like their brother Girty — that the Kentuckians were all alike. — 
very bad people — and ought to be killed as fast as they were taken— *- 
and, finally, they observed that many of their people had come from a 
distance solely to assist at the torture of the prisoner — and pathetically 
painted the disappointment and chagrin with which they would hear that 
all their trouble had been for nothing. 

Girty listened with obvious impatience to the young warriors, who 
had so ably urged against a reprieve — and starting to his feet, as soon 
as the others had concluded, he urged his former request with great 
earnestness. He briefly, but strongly, recapitulated his own services, 
and the many and weighty instances of attachment which he had given. 
He asked if he could be suspected of partiality to the whites ? When 
had he ever before interceded for any of that hated race ? Had he not 
brought seven scalps home with him from the last expedition ? and had 
he not submitted seven white prisoners that very evening to their discre- 
tion? Had he expressed a wish that a single one of the captives should 
be saved. This was his first and should be his last request : for if they 
refused to him what was never refused to the intercession of one of 
their natural chiefs, he would look upon himself as disgraced in their 
eyes, and considered as unworthy of confidence. Which of their own 
natural warriors had been more zealous than himself? From what ex- 
pedition had he ever shrunk ? What white man had ever seen his back ? 
Whose tomahawk had been bloodier than his ? He would say no more. 
He asked it as a first and last favor ; as an evidence that they approved 
of his zeal and fidelity, that the life of his bosom friend might be spared. 
Fresh speakers arose upon each side, and the debate was carried on for 
an hour and a half with great heat and energy. 

During the whole of this time Kenton's feelings may readily be 
imagined. He could not understand a syllable of what was said. He 
saw that Girty spoke with deep earnestness, and that the eyes of the 
assembly were often turned upon himself with various expressions. He 
felt satisfied that his friend was pleading for his life, and that lie was 
violently opposed by a large part of the council. At length, the war 
club was produced and the final vote taken. Kenton watched its pro- 



Simon Girty Saves his Friend. 311 

gress with thrilling emotion, which yielded to the most rapturous 
delight, as he perceived that those who struck the floor of the council 
house were decidedly inferior in number to those who passed it in 
silence. Having thus succeeded in his benevolent purpose, Girty lost 
no time in attending to the comfort of his friend. He led him to his 
own wigwam, and from his own store gave him a pair of mOccasins and 
leggins, a breech-cloth, a hat, a coat, a handkerchief for his neck and 
another for his head. 

The whole of this remarkable scene is in the highest degree honorable 
to Girty, and is in striking contrast to most of his conduct after his 
union with the Indians. No man can be completely hardened, and no 
character is at all times the same. Girty had been deeply offended with 
the whites; and knowing that his desertion to the Indians had been uni- 
versally and severely reprobated, and that he himself was regarded with 
detestation by his former countrymen, he seems to have raged against 
them from these causes, with a fury which resembled rather the paroxysm 
of a maniac than the deliberate cruelty of a naturally ferocious temper. 
Fierce censure never reclaims, but rather drives to still greater extremi- 
ties; and this is the reason that renegades are so much fiercer than 
natural foes, and that when females fall, they fail irretrievably. 

For the space of three weeks Kenton lived in perfect tranquility. 
Girty's kindness was uniform and indefatigable. He introduced Ken- 
ton to his own family, and accompanied him to the wigwams of the princi- 
pal chiefs, who seemed all at once to have turned from the extremity of 
rage to the utmost kindness and cordiality. Fortune, however, seemed 
to have selected him for her football, and to have snatched him from the 
frying pan only to throw him into the fire. About twenty days after 
his most providential deliverance from the stake, he was walking in 
company with Girty and an Indian named Redpole, when another In- 
dian came from the village towards them, uttering repeatedly a whoop 
of a peculiar .intonation. Girty instantly told Kenton that it was the 
" distress halloo," and that they must all go instantly to the council 
house. Kenton's heart involuntarily fluttered at the intelligence, for he 
dreaded all whoops, and hated all council houses — firmly believing that 
neither boded him any good. Nothing, however, could be done to 
avoid whatever fate awaited, and he sadly accompanied Girty and Red- 
pole back to the village. 

Upon approaching the Indian who had hallooed, Girty and Redpole 
shook hands with him. Kenton likewise offered his hand, but the In- 
dian refused to take it — at the same time scowling upon him ominously. 
This took place within a few paces of the door of the council house. 
Upon entering, they saw tiiat the house was unusually full. Many chiefs 



312 Our Western Border, 

and warriors from the distant towns were present ; and their counte- 
nances were grave, severe and forbidding. Girty, Redpole and Ken- 
ton walked around, offering their hands successively to each warrior. 
The hands of the first two were cordially received — but when poor Ken- 
ton anxiously offered his hand to the first warrior, it was rejected with 
the same scowling eye as before. He passed on to the second, but was 
still rejected — he persevered, however, until his hand had been refused 
by the first six — when, sinking into despondence, he turned off and 
stood apart from the rest. 

The debate quickly commenced. Kenton looked eagerly towards 
Girty, as his last and only hope. His friend looked anxious and dis- 
tressed. The chiefs from a distance arose one after another, and spoke 
in a firm and indignant tone, often looking at Kenton with an eye of 
death. Girty did not desert him — but his eloquence appeared wasted 
upon the distant chiefs. After a warm debate, he turned to Kenton 
and said, "Well, my friend! you must die! 1 '' One of the stranger 
chiefs instantly seized him by the collar, and the others surrounding 
him, he was strongly pinioned, committed to a guard, and instantly 
marched off. His guards were on horseback, while the prisoner was 
driven before them on foot with a long rope around his neck, the other 
end of which was held by one of the guard. In this manner they had 
marched about two and a half miles, when Girty passed them on horseback, 
informing Kenton that he had friends at the next village, with whose 
aid he hoped to be able to do something for him. Girty passed on to 
the town, but finding that nothing could be done, he would not see his 
friend again, but returned to Wappatomica by a different route. 



A Savage Axe Blow — Kenton Meets Chief Logan. 

They passed through the village without halting, and at a distance of 
two and a half miles beyond it, Kenton had again an opportunity of 
witnessing the fierce hate with which these children of nature regarded 
an enemy. At the distance of a few paces from the road, a squaw was 
busily engaged in chopping wood, while her lord and master was sitting 
on a log smoking his pipe and directing her labors, with the indolent in- 
difference common to the natives, when not under the influence of some 
exciting passion. The sight of Kenton, however, seemed to rouse him 
to fury. He hastily sprang up, with a sudden yell, snatched the axe 
from the squaw, and rushing upon the prisoner so rapidly as to give him 
no opportunity of escape, dealt him a blow with the axe which cut 
through his shoulder, breaking the bone and almost severing the arm 






Kenton Meets Chief Logan. 313 

from the body. He would instantly have repeated the blow, had not 
Kenton's conductors interfered and protected him, severely reprimand- 
ing the Indian for attempting to rob them of the amusement of tortur- 
ing the prisoner. 

They soon reached a large village upon the head waters of the Scioto, 
where Kenton, for the first time, beheld the celebrated Mingo Chief, 
Logan, so honorably mentioned in Jefferson's Notes on Virginia. Lo- 
gan walked gravely up to the place where Kenton stood, and the follow- 
ing short conversation ensued : " Well, young man, these young men 
seem very mad at you?" " Yes, sir, they certainly are." "Well, 
don't be disheartened; I am a great chief; you are to go to Sandusky — 
they speak of burning you there — but I will send two runners to-morrow 
to speak good for you." Logan's form was striking and manly — his 
countenance calm and noble, and he spoke the English language with 
fluency and correctness. Kenton's spirits instantly rose at the address 
of the benevolent chief, and he once more looked upon himself as prov- 
identially rescued from the stake. 

On the following morning two runners were dispatched to Sandusky, 
as the chief had promised, and until their return Kenton was kindly 
treated, being permitted to spend much of his time with Logan, who 
conversed with him freely and in the most friendly manner. In the 
evening the two runners returned, and were closeted with Logan. 
Kenton felt the most burning anxiety to know what was the result of 
their mission, but Logan did not visit him again until the next morning. 
He then walked up to him, accompanied by Kenton's guards, and, giv- 
ing him a piece of bread, told him that he was instantly to be carried 
to Sandusky ; and without uttering another word, turned upon his heel 
and left him. 

Again Kenton's spirits sunk. From Logan's manner, he supposed 
that his intercession had been unavailing, and that Sandusky was 
destined to be the scene of his final suffering. This appears to have 
been the truth. But fortune, who, to use Lord Lovat's expression, had 
been playing at cat and mouse with him for the last month, had selected 
Sandusky for the display of her strange and capricious power. He was 
driven into the town, as usual, and was to have been burnt on the fol- 
lowing morning, when an Indian Agent, named Drewyer, interposed, 
and once more rescued him from the stake. He was anxious to obtain 
intelligence for the British commandant at Detroit, and so earnestly 
insisted upon Kenton's being delivered up to him, that the Indians at 
length consented, upon the express condition that after the required in- 
formation had been obtained, he should again be placed at their discre- 
tion. To this Drewyer consented, and without further difficulty, Ken- 



314 Our Western Border. 

ton was transferred to his hands. Drewyer lost no time in removing 
him to Detroit. 

On the road he informed Kenton of the condition upon which he 
had obtained possession of his person, assuring him, however, that no 
consideration should induce him to abandon a prisoner to the mercy of 
such wretches. Having dwelt at some length upon the generosity of 
his own disposition, and having sufficiently magnified the service which 
he had just rendered him, he began, at length, to cross-question Ken- 
ton as to the force and condition of Kentucky, and particularly as to 
the number of men at Fort Mcintosh. Kenton very candidly declared 
his inability to answer either question, observing that he was merely a 
private, and by no means acquainted with matters of an enlarged and 
general import ; that his great business had heretofore been to en- 
deavor to take care of himself — which he had found a work of no small 
difficulty. Drewyer replied that he believed him, and from that time 
Kenton was troubled with no more questions. 

His condition at Detroit was not unpleasant. He was compelled to 
report himself every morning to an English officer, and was restricted 
to certain boundaries through the day; "but in other respects he scarcely 
felt that he was a prisoner. His battered body and broken arm were 
quickly repaired, and his emaciated limbs were again clothed with a 
proper proportion of flesh. He remained in this state of easy restraint 
from October, 1777, until June, 1778, when he meditated an escape. 
There was no difficulty in leaving Detroit — but he would be compelled 
to traverse a wilderness of more than two hundred miles, abounding 
with hostile Indians, and affording no means of sustenance beyond the 
wild game, which could not be killed without a gun. In addition to 
this, he would certainly be pursued, and, if retaken by the Indians, he 
might expect'a repetition of all that he had undergone before, without 
the prospect of a second interposition on the part of the English. 
These considerations deterred him for some time from the attempt, but 
at length his patience became uncontrollable, and he determined to 
escape or perish in the attempt. 

He took his measures with equal secrecy and foresight. He cautiously 
sounded two young Kentuckians then at Detroit, who had been taken . 
with Boone at the Blue Licks and had been purchased by the British. 
He found them as impatient as himself of captivity and resolute to ac- 
company him. Charging them not to breathe a syllable of their design 
to any other prisoners, he busied himself for several days in making the 
necessary preparations. It was absolutely necessary that they should be 
provided with arms, both for the sake of repelling attacks and for pro- 
em in g the means of subsistence; and at the same time it was very diffi- 



Butler Changes His Name to Kenton. 315 

cult to obtain them without the knowledge of the British com- 
mandant. By patiently waiting their opportunity, however, all these 
preliminary difficulties were overcome. Kenton formed a close friend- 
ship with two Indian hunters, deluged them with rum, and bought their 
guns for a mere trifle. After carefully hiding them in the woods, he 
returned to Detroit, and managed to procure another rifle, with powder 
and balls, from a Mr. and Mrs., Edger, citizens of the town. They 
then appointed a night for the attempt, and agreed upon a place of ren- 
dezvous. 

All things turned out prosperously. They met at the time and place 
appointed without discovery, and, taking a circuitous route, avoided 
pursuit, and traveling only during the night, they at length arrived 
safely at Louisville, after a march of thirty days. 

Thus terminated one of the most remarkable series of adventures in 
the whole range of western history. Kenton was eight times exposed 
to the gauntlet — three times tied to the stake — and as often thought 
himself on the eve of a terrible death. All the sentences passed upon 
him, whether of mercy or condemnation, seemed to have been only 
pronounced in one council in order to be reversed in another. Every 
friend that Providence raised up in his favor was immediately followed 
by some enemy, who unexpectedly interposed, and turned his short 
glimpse of sunshine into deeper darkness than ever. For three weeks 
he was see-sawing between life and death, and during the whole time he 
was perfectly passive. No wisdom, or foresight, or exertion, could 
have saved him. Fortune fought his battle from first to last, and 
seemed determined to permit nothing else to interfere. Scarcely had 
he readied Kentucky when he was embarked in a new enterprise. 

Butler Changes His Name to Kenton — His Last Years. 

This was in July, '79, and, in a few days, the restless borderer sought 
out new hazards and adventures, and, down to '82, was constantly en- 
gaged, by turn, as scout, guide, hunter and officer. Having acquired 
some valuable tracts of land, he concluded to make a settlement on Salt 
river. Hearing now, for the first time, from his old Virginia home, 
and that not only his father, but the rival whom he supposed he had 
killed, were still living, a great load was lifted from his heart. He now 
dropped the name of Butler and assumed his own proper name of Ken- 
ton, and concluded to pay Virginia a visit. 

His meeting with his venerable father was something like that between 
the old Patriarch Jacob and his son Joseph, whom lie had given up for 
lost. Joseph, however, only sent for his father's family, but Simon 



316 Our Western Border. 

7vent for his. for after visiting all his old friends, his former rival in- 
cluded, he gave such glowing accounts of Kentucky that the whole fam- 
ily concluded to return with him. While, however, engaged in con- 
structing a Kan-tuck boat at Redstone, on the Monongahela, his father 
sickened and died. The rest made their way down the Ohio to Lime- 
stone^ (now Maysville,) which was the great point for entering Kentucky. 

At his old camp near Maysville, Kenton soon commenced a flourish- 
ing colony, but being located so near the hostile Indian country, just 
across the Ohio, he had ever a constant, unintermittent warfare with the 
savages. Their scalping and horse-stealing incursions were frequent, 
and twice Kenton guided large retaliating parties into the very heart of 
their country. He had learned from his old commander, General 
Clarke, the efficacy of "carrying the war into Africa," and no blow was 
delivered by the Indians but what there was a prompt and most effective 
rejoinder. In '93, after many small but sanguinary hand-to-hand strug- 
gles, Kenton ambushed at the river-crossing the last swarthy invaders 
from the Ohio country, succeeding in killing six. 

And so, after a bitter and most obstinate struggle of over twenty 
years, Kentucky was forever lost to the redman. In their best blood, the 
dogged pioneers had written their title to the soil, and now held it with 
an iron and an unyielding grip. Kenton, with a valiant band of Ken- 
tuckians, served as Major in "Mad Anthony Wayne's" '94 campaign, 
but was not present at its crowning triumph — the Battle of the Fallen 
Timbers. There the power and spirit of the Northwestern Confederacy 
were forever broken, and the borders at length enjoyed peace. 

But, as with Boone, so now with Kenton; vexatious troubles fell upon 
him on account of land titles. They who had borne the "heat and 
burthen of the day" were vexed and harassed by "eleventh- hour men" 
coming in to enjoy the fruits secured to them by the toil, blood and 
perils of those who had preceded them. Kenton now, when his skill and 
services as a bold and watchful Indian fighter were no longer needed, was 
cast aside like an old shoe. He had braved the stake, the gauntlet and 
the tomahawk in vain. His very body, even, was taken for debt, and 
he was actually imprisoned for twelve months upon the very spot upon 
which he had built the first cabin, planted the first corn, and about which 
lit- had fought the savages in a hundred fierce encounters. The first pio- 
neer was stripped by crafty, greedy speculators of nearly all the broad, 
fat acres he had so bloodily earned. ■ Beggared by losses and law suits, 
he moved over to the Ohio wilderness — some say in '97 and some say 
in 1802. A few years after lie was elected Brigadier General of the 
Ohio militia, and, in 1810, he united himself with the Methodist Epis- 
copal Church, and ever after lived a consistent Christian life. 



Kenton's Last Years. 317 

In 1813 the staunch old patriot joined the Kentucky troops under 
Governor Shelby, and was present at the Battle of the Thames. But 
this was his last battle, except the hard "battle of life," which he sternly 
fought to the very last. He returned to his obscure cabin in the woods, 
and remained at and near Urbana till 1820, when he moved to Mad 
River, in sight of the old Shawnee town of Wappatomica, where he had 
once been tied to the Indian stake. Even here he was pursued by judg- 
ments and executions from Kentucky, and, to prevent being driven from 
his own cabin by whites, as he formerly was by reds, he was compelled 
to have some land entered in the name of his wife and children. 

Kenton still had some large tracts of mountain lands in Kentucky, 
but they had become forfeit to the State for taxes. He first tried bor- 
ing on some of them to make salt, but this failing, his only alternative 
was to appeal to the Kentucky Legislature to release the forfeiture. So, 
in 1824, when about seventy years old, he mounted his sorry old horse, 
and, in his tattered garments, commenced his weary pilgrimage. The 
second night he stopped at the house of James Galloway, of Xenia, 
Ohio, an old friend and pioneer. Looking at his shabby appearance and 
his wretched saddle and bridle, Galloway gave vent to his honest indig- 
nation. 

" Kenton," he said, " you have served your country faithfully, even 
to old age. What expedition against the British and savages was ever 
raised in the west, but what you were among the most prominent in it ? 
Even down to the last war, you were with Harrison at the taking of 
Proctor's army in Canada ; an old gray-headed warrior, you could not 
stay at home while your country needed your services, and look how 
they have neglected you ! How can you stand such treatment ?" But 
the patriot Kenton could and would hear no word against his country. 
Rising from his seat, he cast a fiery look at his old friend, clinched his 
fist and with an angry stamp of his foot, he exclaimed with warmth : 
" Don't say that again, Galloway ! If you do, I will leave your house 
forever and never again call you my friend." 

Kenton at last reached Frankfort, now become a thrifty and flourish- 
ing city. Here he was utterly unknown. All his old friends had 
departed. His dilapidated appearance and the sorry condition of his 
horse and its wretched equipments only provoked mirth. The grizzled 
old pioneer, was like Rip Van Winkle appearing after his long sleep. 
He wandered up and down the streets, "the observed of all observers." 
The very boys followed him. At length the scarred old warrior was 
recognized by General Fletcher, an old companion-in-arms. He grasped 
him by the hand, led him to a tailor's shop, bought him a suit of clothe- 
and hat j and after he was dressed took him to the State Capitol. 



318 Our Western Border. 

Here he was placed in the Speaker's chair and introduced to a crowded 
assembly of judges, citizens and legislators, as the second pioneer of 
Kentucky. The simple-minded veteran used to say afterwards that " it 
was the very proudest day of his life," and ten years subsequently, his 
friend Hinde asserted, he was wearing the self-same hat and clothes. 
His lands were at once released and shortly after, by the warm exertion 
of some of his friends, a pension from Congress of two hundred and 
fifty dollars was obtained, securing his old age from absolute .want. 

Without any further marked notice, Kenton lived in his humble cabin 
until 1836, when, at the venerable old age of eighty-one, he breathed 
his last, surrounded by his family and neighbors and supported by the 
consolations of the Gospel. He died in sight of the very spot where the 
savages, nearly sixty years previous, proposed to torture him to death. 

General Kenton was of fair complexion, six feet one inch in height. 
He stood and walked very erect, and, in the prime of life, weighed 
about a hundred and ninety pounds. He never was inclined to be cor- 
pulent, although of sufficient fullness to form a graceful person. He 
had a soft, tremulous voice, very pleasing to the hearer; auburn hair 
and laughing gray eyes, which appeared to fascinate the beholder. He 
was a pleasant, good-humored and obliging companion. When excited 
or provoked to anger, which was seldom the case, the fiery glance of his 
eye would almost curdle the blood of those with whom he came in con- 
tact. His wrath, when aroused, was a tornado. In his dealing he was 
perfectly honest. His confidence in man and his credulity were such, 
that the same man might cheat him twenty times — and, if he professed 
friendship, might still continue to cheat him. Kentucky owes it to jus- 
tice and gratitude, to gather up General Kenton's remains and place 
them alongside of those of Boone, in the sacred soil he was among the 
first and the boldest to defend. 

Ah, can this be the spot where sleeps 

The bravest of the brave ? 
Is this rude slab the only mark 

Of Simon Kenton's grave? 
These fallen palings, are they all 

His ingrate country gave, 
To one who periled life so oft 

Her homes and hearths to save? 



The Wetzel Family. 319 



THE WETZEL FAMILY— FATHER AND FIVE SONS. 
Lewis, the Right Arm of the Wheeling Border. 

He needs no guide in the forest, 

More than the hunter bees ; 
His guides are the cool, green mosses 

To the northward of the trees. 
Nor fears he the foe whose footsteps 

Go light as the Summer air. 
His tomahawk hangs in his shirt belt, 

And the scalp-knife glitters there. 
The stealthy Wyandots tremble, 

And speak his name with fear ; 
For his aim is sharp and deadly, 

And his rifle's ring is clear. — Florus B Plymptott. 

In the year 1772, there came with the four Zane brothers, who set- 
tled at the mouth of Wheeling Creek, in the West Virginian Pan- 
handle, a rough but brave and honest old German by the name of John 
Wetzel — not Whetzell or Whitzell, as the old Border books have ^t. 
He was the father of five sons — Martin, George, John, Jacob and 
Lewis, and two daughters— Susan and Christina. 

At that time there were only three other adventurers in that whole 
wilderness region — the two Tomlinsons, located on the Flats of Grave 
Creek, and a mysterious man by the name of Tygert, at the mouth of 
Middle Island Creek. Who this latter was, or what became of him, no 
one has ever learned. Andrew Zane, shortly after his own arrival, went 
a short distance down the Ohio on a hunting excursion, and was sur- 
prised to find this lone hunter's cabin where he supposed the foot of 
white man had never yet trodden. 

The whole of this Wetzel family were hunters and Indian fighters, 
but the most daring and reckless of all, and the one who has left the 
greatest name on the western border, was Lewis Wetzel. Of him more 
anon. We now propose first to treat of the father and brothers. The 
elder Wetzel spent much of his time in locating lands, hunting and 
fishing. In the very hottest time of the Indian troubles, he was so rash 
as to build his cabin at some distance from the fort. His neighbors 
frequently admonished him against exposing himself thus to the enemy ; 
but disregarding their advice, and laughing at their fears, he continued 
to widen the range of his excursions, until at last he fell a victim to the 
active vigilance of the tawny foe. He was killed near Captina, in 
1787, on his return from Middle Island Creek, under the following cir- 



320 Our Western Border. 

cumstances : Himself and companion were in a canoe, paddling slowly- 
near the shore, when they were hailed by a party of Indians, and or- 
dered to land. This they of course refused, when immediately they were 
fired upon, and Wetzel was shot through the body. Feeling himself 
mortally wounded, he directed his companion to lie down in the canoe, 
while he, (Wetzel,) so long as strength remained, would paddle the frail 
vessel beyond reach of the savages. In this way he saved the life of his 
friend, while his own was ebbing fast. He died soon after reaching the 
shore, at Baker's station, and his humble grave can still be seen near 
the site of that primitive fortress. A rough stone marks the spot, bear- 
ing, in rude but perfectly distinct characters, "J. W., 1787." 

Martin Wetzel made Captive — Kills Three Savages. 

Martin, who was the oldest of the family, was once surprised and 
taken prisoner by the Indians, and remained with them a long time. 
By his cheerful disposition and apparent satisfaction with their mode of 
life, he disarmed their suspicion, acquired their confidence, and was 
adopted into one of their families. 

He was free, hunted around the town, returned, danced and frolicked 
with the young Indians, and appeared perfectly satisfied with his change 
of life. But all the time his heart was brooding on an escape, which he 
wished to render memorable by some tragic act of revenge upon his 
confiding enemies. In the Fall of the year,,Martin and three Indians set 
off to make a Fall hunt. They pitched their camp near the head of 
Sandusky river. When the hunt commenced, he was very careful to 
return first in the evening to the camp, prepare wood for the night, and 
do all other little offices of camp duty to render them comfortable. By 
this means he lulled any lurking suspicion which they might entertain 
towards him. While hunting one evening, some distance from the camp, 
he came across one of his Indian camp-mates. Martin watched for a 
favorable moment, and as the Indian's attention was called in a differ- 
ent direction, he shot him down, scalped him, and threw his body into 
a deep hole, which had been made by a large tree torn up by the roots, 
and covered his body with logs and brush, over which he strewed leaves 
to conceal the body. He then hurried to the camp to prepare, as usual, 
wood for the night. 

When night came, one of the Indians was missing, and Martin ex- 
pressed great concern on account of the absence of their comrade. The 
other Indians did not appear to be the least concerned at the absence of 
their companion; they both alleged that ( he might have taken a large cir- 
cle, looking for new hunting ground, or that he might have pursued 



John Wetzel on a Horse-stealing Expedition. 321 

some wounded game till it was too late to return to camp. In this 
mood the subject was dismissed for the night; they ate their supper and 
lay down to sleep. Martin's mind was so full of the thoughts of home, 
and of taking signal vengeance on his enemies, that he could not sleep; 
he had gone too far to retreat, and whatever was done must be done 
quickly. Being now determined to effect his escape at all hazards, the 
question he had to decide was whether he should make attack on the two 
sleeping Indians, or watch for a favorable opportunity of dispatching 
them one at a time. The latter plan appeared to him to be less subject 
to risk or failure. The next morning he prepared to put his determina- 
tion into execution. 

When the two Indians set out on their hunt, he determined to follow 
one of them (like a true hunting dog on a slow trail) till a fair oppor- 
tunity should present itself of dispatching him without alarming his fel- 
low. He cautiously pursued him till near evening, when he openly 
walked to him, and commenced a conversation about their day's hunt. 
The Indian being completely off his guard, suspecting no danger, Mar- 
tin watched for a favorable moment, when the Indian's attention was 
drawn to a different direction, and with one sweep of his vengeful tom- 
ahawk laid him lifeless on the ground, scalped him, tumbled his body 
into a sink-hole and covered it with brush and logs. He then made his 
way to the camp, with a firm determination of closing the bloody 
tragedy by killing the third Indian. He went out and composedly waited 
at the camp for the return of the Indian. About sunset he saw him 
coming, with a load of game that he had killed swung on his back. 
Martin went forward under the pretense of aiding to disencumber him 
of his load. When the Indian stooped down to be detached of his load 
Martin, with one fell swoop of his tomahawk, laid him in death's eternal 
sleep. Being now in no danger of pursuit, he leisurely packed up what 
plunder he could conveniently carry with him, and made his way to 
the white settlements, where he safely arrived with the three Indian 
scalps, after an absence of nearly a year. 

John Wetzel on a Horse-stealing Expedition. 

In the year 1 791 or '92, the Indians having made frequent incursions 
into the settlements along the river Ohio, between Wheeling and the 
Mingo Bottom, sometimes killing or capturing whole families ; at other 
times stealing all the horses belonging to a station or fort, a company 
consisting of seven men, rendezvoused at a place called the Beech Bot- 
tom, on the Ohio river, a few miles below, where Wellsburg, W. Va., 
has been erected. This company were John Wetzel, William M'Cul- 
21 



322 Our Western Border. 

lough, John Hough, Thomas Biggs, Joseph Hedges, Kinzie Dickerson, 
and a Mr. Linn. Their avowed object was to go to the Indian town to 
steal horses. This was then considered a legal, honorable business, as 
the border was then at open war with the Indians. It would only be 
retaliating upon them in their own way. These seven men were all 
trained to Indian warfare and a life in the woods from their youth. 
Perhaps the western frontier, at no time, could furnish seven men whose 
souls were better fitted, and whose nerves and sinews were better strung 
to perform any enterprise which required resolution and firmness. 

They crossed the Ohio, and proceeded with cautious steps and vigi- 
lant glances on their way through the cheerless, dark and almost im- 
penetrable forest in the Indian country, till they came to an Indian 
town, near where the head waters of the Sandusky and Muskingum 
rivers interlock. Here they made a fine haul, and set off homeward 
with about fifteen horses. They traveled rapidly, only making a short 
halt, to let their horses graze and breathe a short time to recruit their 
strength and activity. In the evening of the second day of their rapid 
retreat, they arrived at Wells Creek, not far from where the town of 
Cambridge, Ohio, has been since erected. Here Mr. Linn was taken 
violently sick, and they must stop their march, or leave him alone to 
perish in the dark and lonely woods. Our frontiermen, notwithstand- 
ing their rough and unpolished manners, had too much of my Uncle 
Toby's "sympathy for suffering humanity," to forsake a comrade in 
distress. They halted, and placed sentinels on their back trail, who re- 
mained there till late in the night, without seeing any signs of being 
pursued. The sentinels then returned to the camp, Mr. Linn still lying 
in excruciating pain. All the simple remedies in their power were ad- 
ministered to the sick man, without producing any effect. 

Being late in the night, they all lay down to rest, except one who 
was placed as guard. Their camp was on a small branch. Just be- 
fore daybreak the guard took a small bucket, and dipped some water 
out of the stream ; on carrying it to the fire he discovered the water to 
be muddy. The muddy water waked his suspicion that the enemy might 
be approaching them and be walking down in the stream, as their foot- 
steps would be noiseless in the water. He waked his companions, and 
communicated his suspicion. They arose, examined the branch a little 
distance, and listened attentively for some time, but neither saw nor 
heard anything, and then concluded it must have been raccoons, or 
some other animals paddling in the stream. After this conclusion the 
company all lay down to rest, except the sentinel, who was stationed 
just outside of the light. Happily for them the fire had burned down, 
and only a few coals afforded a dim light to point out where they lay. 



John Wetzel Captures an Obstinate Savage. 323 

The enemy had come silently down the creek, as the sentinel suspected, 
to within ten or twelve feet of the place where they lay, and fired sev- 
eral guns over the bank. Mr. Linn, the sick man, was lying with his 
side towards the bank, and received nearly all the balls which were at 
first fired. 

The Indians then, with tremendous yells, mounted the bank with 
loaded rifles, war clubs and tomahawks, rushed upon our men, who fled 
barefooted, and without arms. Mr. Linn, Thomas Biggs and Joseph 
Hedges were killed in and near the camp. William M'Cullough had 
run but a short distance when he was fired at by the enemy. At the 
instant the firing was given, he jumped into a quagmire and fell \ the 
Indians supposing that they had killed him, ran past in pursuit of others. 
He soon extricated himself out of the mire, and so made his escape. 
He fell in with John Hough, and came into Wheeling. John Wetzel 
and Kinzie Dickerson met in their retreat, and returned together. Those 
who made their escape were without arms, without clothing or provisions. 
Their sufferings were great ; but this they bore with stoical indifference, 
as it was the fortune of war. Whether the Indians who defeated our 
heroes followed in pursuit from their towns, or were a party of warriors, 
who accidentally happened to fall in with them, has never been ascer- 
tained. From the place they had stolen the horses, they had traveled 
two nights and almost two entire days, without halting, except just a few 
minutes at a time, to let the horses graze. From the circumstance of 
their rapid retreat with the horses, it was supposed that no pursuit could 
possibly have overtaken them, but that fate had decreed that this party 
of Indians should meet and defeat them. As soon as the stragglers 
arrived at Wheeling, Captain John M'Cullough collected a party of 
men, and went to Wells Creek and buried the unfortunate men who 
fell in and near the camp. The Indians had mangled the dead bodies 
at a most barbarous rate. Thus was closed this horse-stealing tragedy. 
Those who survived this tragedy continued to hunt and to fight as long 
as the war lasted. John Wetzel and Dickerson died in the country near 
Wheeling. John Hough died near Columbia, Ohio. The brave Cap- 
tain William M'Cullough fell in 1 812, in the campaign with General 
Hull 

John Wetzel Captures an Obstinate Savage. 

John Wetzel and Veach Dickerson associated to go on an Indian 
scout. They crossed the Ohio at the Mingo Bottom, three miles below 
where the town of Steubenville has since been constructed. They set 
off with the avowed intention of bringing an Indian prisoner. They 



324 Our Western Border. 

painted and dressed in complete Indian style, and could talk some in 
their language. What induced them to undertake this hazardous enter- 
prise is now unknown ; perhaps the novelty and danger of the under- 
taking prompted them to action. No reward was given for either pris- 
oners or scalps ; nor were they employed or paid by government. 
Every man fought on his own hook, furnished his own arms and am- 
munition, and carried his own baggage. This was, to all intents, a 
democratic war, as every one fought as often and as long as he pleased; 
either by himself, or with such company as he could confide in. As the 
white men on the frontier took but few prisoners, Wetzel and Dickerson 
concluded to change the practice, and bring in an Indian to make a 
pet. 

Whatever whim may have induced them, they set off with the avowed 
intention of bringing in a prisoner, or losing their own scalps in the at- 
tempt. They pushed through the Indian country with silent tread and 
a keen lookout, till they went near the head of the Sandusky river, 
where they came near a small Indian village. They concealed them- 
selves close to a path which appeared to be considerably traveled. In 
the course of the first day of their ambush, they saw several small com- 
panies of Indians pass them. As it was not their wish to raise an alarm 
among the enemy, they permitted them to pass undisturbed. In the 
evening of the next day they saw two Indians coming sauntering along 
the road in quite a merry mood. They immediately stepped into the 
road, and with a confident air, as if they were meeting friends, went 
forward until they came within reach of the enemy. Wetzel now drew 
his tomahawk, and with one sweep knocked an Indian down ; at the 
same instant Dickerson grasped the other in his arms, and threw him on 
the ground. By this time Wetzel had killed the other, and turned his 
hand to aid in fastening the prisoner. This completed, they scalped 
the dead Indian, and set off with the prisoner for home. 

They traveled all night on the war path leading towards Wheeling. 
In the morning they struck off from the path, and making diverse 
courses, and keeping on the hardest ground, where their feet would 
make the least impression, they pushed along till they had crossed the 
Muskingum some distance, when their prisoner began to show a restive, 
stubborn disposition ; he finally threw himself on the ground and re- 
fused to rise. He held down his head, and told them they might toma- 
hawk him as soon as they pleased, for he was determined to go no 
farther. They used every argument they could think of to induce him 
to proceed, but without any effect. He said he would prefer dying in 
his native woods than to preserve his life a little longer, and at last be 
tortured by fire, and his body mangled for sport, when they took him 



Wetzel and Kenton Attack an Indian Camp. 325 

to their towns. They assured him his life would be spared, and that he 
would be well used and treated with plenty. But all their efforts would 
not induce him to rise to his feet. The idea that he would be put to 
death for sport, or in revenge, in presence of a large number of spec- 
tators, who would enjoy with rapture the scenes of his torture and 
death, had taken such a strong hold of his mind, that he determined to 
disappoint the possibility of their being gratified at his expense. As it 
was not their wish to kill him from coaxing they concluded to try if a 
hickory, well applied, would not bend his stubborn soul. This, too, 
failed to have any effect. He appeared to be as callous and indifferent 
to the lash as if he had been a cooper's horse. What invincible resolu- 
tion and fortitude was evinced by this son of the forest ! Finding all 
their efforts to urge him forward ineffectual, they determined to put 
him to death. They then tomahawked and scalped him, and left his 
body a prey to the wild beasts of the forest and to the birds of the air. 
The scalp-hunters then returned home with their two scalps ; but vexed 
and disappointed that they could not bring with them the prisoner. 

Jacob Wetzel and Simon Kenton Attack an Indian Camp. 

Of Jacob Wetzel's history, writes McDonald, I can give but a meagre 
account, although I have heard of many of his exploits in the old In- 
dian war. But my recollection of them is so indistinct and confused, 
that I will not attempt to relate but one of the numerous fights in which 
he was engaged. In that battle he had a comrade who was his 
equal in intrepidity, and his superior in that cautious prudence which 
constitutes the efficient warrior. That headstrong fury with which 
many of our old frontiermen rushed into danger, was the cause of 
many distressing disasters. They frequently, by their headlong course, 
performed such successful actions, that if any military exploits deserve 
the character of sublime, they were eminently such. 

The following relation I had from General Kenton. He and Wet- 
zel made arrangements to make a Fall hunt together, and for that pur- 
pose they went into the hilly country near the mouth of the Kentucky 
river. When they arrived where they intended to make their hunt, 
they discovered some signs of Indians having preoccupied the ground. 
It would have been out of character in a Kenton and a Wetzel to re- 
treat without first ascertaining the description and number of the 
enemy. . They determined to find the Indian camp, which they believed 
was at no great distance from them, as they had heard reports of guns 
late in the evening and early the next morning in the same direction. 
This convinced them that the camp was at no great distance from the 



326 Our Western Border. 

firing. Our heroes moved cautiously about, making as little sign as pos- 
sible, that they might not be discovered by the enemy. Towards even- 
ing of the second day after they arrived on the ground, they discovered 
the Indian camp. 

They kept themselves concealed, determined, as soon as night ap- 
proached, to reconnoitre the situation and number of the enemy ; and 
then govern their future operations as prudence might dictate. They 
found five Indians in the camp. Having confidence in themselves and 
in their usual good fortune, they concluded to attack them boldly. 
Contrary to military rules, they agreed to defer the attack till light. In 
military affairs it is a general rule to avoid night fights, except where 
small numbers intend to assault a larger force. The night is then chosen, 
as in the darkness the numbers of the assailants being uncertain, may 
produce panics and confusion, which may give the victory to far inferior 
numbers. Our heroes chose daylight and an open field for the fight. 
There was a large fallen tree lying near the camp ; this would serve as a 
rampart for defence and would also serve to conceal them from observa- 
tion till the battle commenced. They took their station behind the log, 
and there lay till broad daylight, when they were able to draw a clear 
bead. 

Jacob Wetzel had a double-barreled rifle. Their guns were cocked 
—they took aim, and gave the preconcerted signal— fired, and two In- 
dians fell. As quick as thought, Wetzel fired his second load, and down 
fell the third Indian. Their number was now equal, so they bounded 
over the log, screaming and yelling at the highest pitch of their voices, 
to strike terror into their remaining enemies, and were among them be- 
fore they recovered from the sudden surprise. The two remaining In- 
dians, without arms, took to their heels, and ran in different directions. 
Kenton pursued one, whom he soon overhauled, tomahawked and 
scalped, and then returned with the bloody trophy to the camp. 
Shortly after Wetzel returned with the scalp of the fifth Indian. This 
was a wholesale slaughter, that but few except such men as Kenton and 
Wetzel would have attempted. 



Lewis Wetzel, the Boone of West Virginia. 327 



LEWIS WETZEL, THE BOONE OF WEST VIRGINIA. 

Stout-hearted Lewis Wetzel 

Rode down the river shore, 
The wilderness behind him 

And the wilderness before. — Plyntpton. 

But of all the Wetzel family Lewis was the most famous. Without 
him the history of Northwestern Virginia would be like the " play of 
Hamlet with Hamlet left out." His presence was a tower of strength 
to the settlers, and for many years he was esteemed the right arm of 
their defence. With most of the famed hunters of the west, Indian 
fighting was only an episode — frequently a compulsory one — of their 
stormy lives, but with Wetzel it was a life business. He plunged reck- 
lessly into the fearful strife, and was never contented unless roaming the 
wilderness solitudes, trailing the savages to their very homes and rushing 
to combat, regardless of time, place or numbers. Bold, wary and tire- 
less, he stood without an equal in the perilous profession to which he had 
sworn to devote himself. 

No man on the western frontier was more dreaded by the enemy, and 
none did more to beat him back into the heart of the forest, and reclaim the 
expanseless domain which we now enjoy. By many he is regarded as 
little better than a semi-savage — a man whose disposition was that of an 
enraged tiger — whose only propensity was for blood, but this De Hass 
(excellent authority) asserts was not true. He was never known to 
inflict unwonted cruelty upon women and children, as has been charged 
upon him ; and he never was found to torture or mutilate his victim, as 
many of the traditions would indicate. He was revengeful, because he 
had suffered deep injury at the hands of that race, and woe to the Indian 
warrior who crossed his path. He was literally a man without fear. 
He was brave as a lion, cunning as a fox ; " daring where daring was 
the wiser part — prudent when discretion was valor's better self." He 
seemed to possess, in a remarkable degree, that intuitive knowledge 
which can alone constitute a good and efficient hunter, added to which, 
he was sagacious, prompt to act, and always aiming to render his actions 
efficient. Such was Lewis Wetzel, the celebrated Indian hunter of 
Western Virginia. 

At the time of his father's death, Lewis was about twenty-three years 
of age, and, in common with his brothers, or those who were old enough, 
swore sleepless vengeance against the whole Indian race. Terribly did 



328 Our Western Border. 

he and they carry that resolution into effect. From that time forward, 
they were devoted to the woods ; and an Indian, whether in peace or 
war, at night or by day, was a doomed man in the presence of either. 
The name of Wetzel sent a thrill of horror through the heart of the 
stoutest savage, before whom a more terrible image could not be con- 
jured up than one of these relentless " Long Knives." 

The first event worthy of record, in the life of our hero, occurred 
when he was about fourteen years of age. The Indians had not been 
very troublesome in the immediate vicinity of his father's, and no great 
apprehensions were felt, as it was during a season of comparative 
quietude. On the occasion referred to, Lewis had just stepped from his 
father's door, and was looking at his brother Jacob playing, when, sud- 
denly turning toward the corn crib, he saw a gun pointing around the 
corner. Quick as thought he jumped back, but not in time to escape 
the ball ; it took effect upon the breast bone, carrying away a small 
portion, and cutting a fearful wound athwart the chest. In an instant, 
two athletic warriors sprang from behind the crib, and quietly making 
prisoners of the lads, bore them off without being discovered. On the 
second day they reached the Ohio, and crossing near the mouth of Mc- 
Mahan's Creek, gained the Big Lick, about twenty miles from the 
river. 

During the whole of this painful march, Lewis suffered severely from 
his wound, but bore up with true courage, knowing that if he com- 
plained, the tomahawk would be his doom. That night, on lying down, 
the Indians, contrary to their custom, failed to tie their prisoners. 
Lewis now resolved to escape, and in the course of an hour or so, satis- 
fying himself that the Indians were asleep, touched Jacob, and both 
arose without disturbing their captives. Lewis, leading the way, pushed 
into the woods. Finding, however, that he could not travel without 
moccasins, he returned to the camp and soon came back with two pair, 
which, having fitted on, Lewis said : " Now I must go back for father's 
gun." Securing this, the two boys started for home. Finding the path, 
they traveled on briskly for some time ; but hearing a noise, listened 
and ascertained the Indians were in pursuit. The lads stepped aside as 
the pursuers came up, and then again moved on. Soon they heard the 
Indians return, and by the same plan effectually eluded them. Before 
daylight they were again followed by two on horseback, but, resorting 
to a similar expedient, readily escaped detection. On the following 
day, about eleven o'clock, the boys reached the Ohio, at a point oppo- 
site Zane's Island. Lashing together two logs, they crossed over, and 
were once more with their friends. 



Lewis Wetzel Kills Three Savages. 320 



Lewis Wetzel Kills Three Savages in a Running Fight. 

Shortly after Crawford's defeat, a man named Thomas Mills, in escap- 
ing from that unfortunate expedition, reached the Indian Spring, about 
nine miles from Wheeling, on the present National Road, where he was 
compelled to leave his horse and proceed to Wheeling on foot- Thence 
he went to Van Metre's Fort, and, after a day or two of rest, induced 
Lewis Wetzel to go with him to the spring for his horse. Lewis cautioned 
him against the danger, but Mills was determined, and the two started. 
Approaching the spring, they discovered the horse tied to a tree, and 
Wetzel at once comprehended their danger. Mills walked up to unfasten 
the animal, when instantly a discharge of rifles followed, and the unfor- 
tunate man fell, mortally wounded. 

Wetzel now turned, and, knowing his only escape was in flight, 
plunged through the enemy, and bounded off at the very extent of his 
speed. Four fleet Indians followed in rapid pursuit, whooping in proud 
exultation of soon overhauling their intended victim. After a chase of 
half a mile, one of the most active savages approached so close that 
Wetzel was afraid he might throw his tomahawk, and instantly, wheeling, 
shot the fellow dead in his tracks. 

In early youth Lewis had acquired the habit of loading his gun while 
at a full run, and now he felt the great advantage of it. Keeping in 
advance of his pursuers during another half mile, a second Indian came 
up, and, turning to fire, the savage caught the end of his gun, and, for 
a time, the contest was doubtful. At one moment the Indian, by his 
great strength and dexterity, brought Wetzel to his knee, and had nearly 
wrenched the rifle from the hands of his antagonist, when Lewis, by a 
renewed effort, drew the weapon from the grasp of the savage, and, 
thrusting the muzzle against the side of his neck, pulled the trigger, 
killing him instantly. The two other Indians, by this time, had nearly 
overtaken him; but leaping forward, he kept ahead, until his unerring 
rifle was a third time loaded. 

Anxious to have done with that kind of sport, he slackened his pace, 
and even stopped once or twice to give his pursuers an opportunity to 
face him. Every time, however, he looked round, the Indians treed, 
unwilling any longer to encounter his destructive weapon. After run- 
ning a mile or two farther in this manner, he reached an open piece of 
ground, and, wheeling suddenly, the foremost Indian jumped behind a 
tree, but which, not screening his body, Wetzel fired, and dangerously 
wounded him. The remaining Indian made an immediate retreat, yell- 
ing as he went, "No catch dat man, him gun a/way loaded" 



330 Our Western Border. 

In the Summer of 1786, the Indians having become troublesome in 
the neighborhood of Wheeling, particularly in the Short Creek settle- 
ment, and a party having killed a man near Mingo Bottom, it was de- 
termined to send an expedition after the retreating enemy, of sufficient 
force to chastise them most effectually. A subscription or pony purse 
was made up, and one hundred dollars were offered to the man who 
should bring in the first Indian scalp. Major McMahan, living at Beach 
Bottom, headed the expedition, and Lewis Wetzel was one of his men. 
They crossed the river on the 5th of August, and proceeded, by a rapid 
march, to the Muskingum. The expedition numbered about twenty 
men ; and an advance of five were detailed to reconnoitre. This party 
reported to the commander that they had discovered the camp of the 
enemy, but that it was far too numerous to think of making an attack. 
A consultation was thereupon held, and an immediate retreat deter- 
mined on. 

During the conference Lew. Wetzel sat upon a log, with his gun care- 
lessly resting across his knees. The moment it was resolved to retreat, 
most of the party started in disordered haste ; but the commander, ob- 
serving Wetzel still sitting on the log, turned to inquire if he was not 
going along. "No," was his sullen reply; "I came out to hunt In- 
dians, and now that they are found, I am not going home, like a fool, 
with my fingers in my mouth. I am determined to take an Indian scalp 
or lose my own." All arguments were unavailing, and there they were 
compelled to leave him : a lone man, in a desolate wilderness, surrounded 
by an enemy — vigilant, cruel, bloodthirsty, and of horrid barbarity — 
with no friend but his rifle, and no guide but the sure index which an 
All-Wise Providence has deep set in the heavens above. Once by him- 
self, and looking around to feel satisfied that they were all gone, he 
gathered his blanket about him, adjusted his tomahawk and scalping 
knife, shouldered his rifle, and moved off in an opposite direction, 
hoping that a small party of Indians might be met with. Keeping away 
from the larger streams, he strolled on cautiously, peering into every 
dell and suspicious cover, and keenly sensitive to the least sound of a 
dubious character. 

Nothing, however, crossed his path that day. The night being dark 
and chilly, it was necessary to have a fire; but to show a light, in the 
midst of his enemy, would be to invite to certain destruction. To avoid 
this, he constructed a small coal pit out of bark, dried leaves, etc., 
and covering these with loose earth, leaving an occasional air hole, he 
seated himself, encircling the pit with his legs, and then completed the 
whole by covering his head with the blanket. In this manner he would 
produce a temperature equal, as he expressed it, to that of a "stove 



Lewis Wetzel Kills Three Savages. 331 

room." This was certainly an original and ingenious mode of getting 
up a fire, without, at the same time, endangering himself by a light. 

During most of the following day he roamed through the forest with- 
out noticing any " signs " of Indians. At length smoke was discovered, 
and going in the direction of it, he found a camp, but tenantless. It 
contained two blankets and a small kettle, which Wetzel at once knew 
belonged to two Indians, who were, doubtless, out hunting. Conceal- 
ing himself in the matted undergrowth, he patiently awaited the re- 
turn of the occupants. About sunset, one of the Indians came in and 
made up the fire, and went to cooking his supper. Shortly after, the 
other came in. They ate their supper, and began to sing, and amuse 
themselves by telling comic stories, at which they would burst into roars 
of laughter. Singing and telling amusing stories, was the common 
practice of the white and redmen, when lying in their hunting camps. 

About nine or ten o'clock, one of the Indians wrapped his blanket 
around him, shouldered his rifle, took a chunk of fire in his hand and 
left the camp, doubtless with the intention of going to watch a deer- 
lick. The fire and smoke would serve to keep off the gnats and mos- 
quitoes. It is a remarkable fact, that deer are not alarmed at seeing 
fire, from the circumstance of meeting it so frequently in the Fall and 
Winter seasons, when the leaves and grass are dry, and the woods on 
fire. The absence of the Indian was a cause of vexation and disap- 
pointment to our hero, whose trap was so happily set that he consid- 
ered his game secure. He still indulged the hope that the Indian 
would return to camp before day, but in this he was disappointed. 
There are birds in the woods which commence chirping just before 
break of day, and, like the cock, give notice to the woodsman that light 
will soon appear. Lewis heard the wooded songsters begin to chatter, 
and determined to delay no longer the work of death for the return of 
the other Indian. 

He walked to the camp with a noiseless step, and found # his victim 
buried in profound sleep, lying upon one side. He drew his scalping 
knife, and with the utmost force, impelled by revenge, sent the blade 
through his heart. He said the Indian gave a short quiver, a convul- 
sive motion, and then laid still in the sleep of death. Lewis scalped 
him, and set out for home. He arrived at the Mingo Bottom only one 
day after his unsuccessful companions. He claimed and received the re- 
ward. 



332 Our Western Border. 



He Shoots a Red Gobbler and Attacks a Camp of Four. 

A most fatal decoy, on the frontier, was the turkey call. On sev- 
eral occasions, men from the fort at Wheeling had gone across the hill in 
quest of a turkey, whose plaintive cries had elicited their attention, and, 
on more than one occasion, the men never returned. Wetzel suspected 
the cause, and determined to satisfy himself. On the east side of the 
Creek Hill, and at a point elevated at least sixty feet above the water, 
there is a capacious cavern, (we have seen this cavern within the year,) 
the entrance to which, at that time, was almost obscured by a heavy 
growth of vines and foliage. Into this the alluring savage would crawl, 
and could there have an extensive view of the hill front on the opposite 
side. From that cavern issued the decoy of death to more than one 
incautious soldier and settler. Wetzel knew of the existence and ex- 
act locality of the cave, and accordingly started out before day, and, 
by a circuitous route, reached the spot from the rear. Posting himself 
so as to command a view of the opening, he waited patiently for the 
expected cry. Directly the twisted tuft of an Indian warrior slowly 
rose in the mouth of the cave, and, looking cautiously about, sent forth 
the long, shrill, peculiar "cry," sounding like chug-a-lug, chug-a-lug, 
chug-a-lug, chug, and immediately sank back out of view. Lewis 
screened himself in his position, cocked his gun, and anxiously waited for 
a reappearance of the head. In a few minutes up rose the tuft; Lewis 
drew a fine aim at the polished head, and the next instant the brains of 
the savage were scattered about the cave. That turkey troubled the 
inhabitants no longer, and tradition does not say whether the place was 
ever after similarly occupied. 

A singular custom with this daring borderer was to take a Fall hunt 
into the Indian country. Equipping himself, he set out and penetrated 
to the Muskingum, and fell upon a camp of four Indians. Hesitating 
a moment, whether to attack a party so much his superior in numerical 
strength, he determined to make the attempt. At the hour of mid- 
night, when naught was heard but the long, dismal howl of the wolf, 

" Cruel as death, and hungry as the grave, 
Burning for blood, bony, gaunt and grim," 

he moved cautiously from his covert, and, gliding through the darkness, 
stealthily approached the camp, supporting his rifle in one hand and a 
tomahawk in the other. A dim flicker from the camp fire faintly re- 
vealed the forms of the sleepers, wrapped in that profound slumber, 
which, to part of them, was to know no waking. There they lay, with 
their dark faces turned up to the night -sky, in the deep solitude of their 



He Shoots a Red Gobbler and Attacks a Camp of Four. 333 

own wilderness, little dreaming that their most relentless enemy was 
hovering over them. 

Quietly resting his gun against a tree, he unsheathed his knife, and, 
with an intrepidity that could never be surpassed, stepped boldly for- 
ward like the minister of death, and, quick as thought, cleft the skull of 
one of his sleeping victims. In an instant, a second one was similarly 
served ; and, as a third attempted to rise, confused by the horrid yells 
with which Wetzel accompanied his blows, he too shared the fate of his 
companions, and sank dead at the feet of his ruthless slayer. The 
fourth darted into the darkness of the woods and escaped, although 
Wetzel pursued him some distance. Returning to camp, he scalped his 
victims, and then left for home. When asked, on his return, what 
luck? "Not much," he replied. "I treed four Indians, but one got 
away." This unexampled achievement stamped him as one of the most 
daring, and, at the same time, successful hunters of his day. The dis- 
tance to and from the scene of this adventure could not have been less 
than one hundred and seventy miles. 

During one of his scouts in the immediate neighborhood of Wheeling, 
our hero took shelter, on a stormy evening, in a deserted cabin on the 
bottom, not far from what was then the residence of Mr. Hamilton 
Woods. Gathering a few broken boards, he prepared a place, in the 
loft, to sleep. Scarcely had he got himself adjusted for a nap when six 
Indians entered, and, striking a fire, commenced preparing their homely 
meal. Wetzel watched their movements closely, with drawn knife, de- 
termined, the moment he was discovered, to leap into their midst, and, 
in the confusion, endeavor to escape. Fortunately, they did not see 
him; and, soon after supper, the whole six fell asleep. Wetzel now 
crawled noiselessly down, and hid himself behind a log, at a convenient 
distance from the door of the cabin. At early dawn, a tall savage 
stepped from the door, and stretching up both hands in a long, hearty 
yawn, seemed to draw in new life from the pure, invigorating atmos- 
phere. In an instant Wetzel had his finger upon the trigger, and the 
next moment the Indian fell heavily to the ground, his life's blood 
gushing upon the young grass, brilliant with the morning dew-drops. 
The report of the rifle had not ceased echoing through the valley, ere 
the daring borderer was far away, secure from all pursuit. 

Some time after General Harmar had erected a fort at the mouth of 
the Muskingum river, where Marietta now stands, about 1789, he em- 
ployed some white men to go, with a flag, among the nearest Indian 
tribes, to prevail with them to come to the fort, and there to conclude 
a treaty of peace. A large number of Indians came, on the general 
invitation, and encamped on the Muskingum river, a few miles above 



334 Our Western Border. 

its mouth. General Harmar issued a proclamation, giving notice that 
a cessation of arms was mutually agreed upon, between the white and 
redmen, till an effort for a treaty of peace should be concluded. 

As treaties of peace with Indians had been so frequently violated, 
but little faith was placed in the stability of such engagements by the 
frontiermen \ notwithstanding that they were as frequently the aggres- 
sors as were the Indians. Half the backwoodsmen of that day had 
been born in a fort, and grew to manhood, as it were, in a siege. The 
Indian war had continued so long, and was so bloody, that they be- 
lieved war with them was to continue as long as both survived to fight. 
With these impressions, as they considered the Indians faithless, it was 
difficult to inspire confidence in the stability of treaties. While Gen- 
eral Harmar was diligently engaged with the Indians, endeavoring to 
make peace, Lewis Wetzel concluded to go to Fort Harmar, and, as 
the Indians would be passing and repassing between their camp and 
the fort, he would have a fair opportunity of killing one. 

He associated with himself in this enterprise, a man named Veach 
Dickerson, who was only a small grade below him in restless daring. 
As soon as the enterprise was resolved on, they were impatient to put it 
in execution, The more danger, the more excited and impatient they 
were to execute their plan. They set off without delay, and arrived at 
the desired point, and sat themselves down in ambush, near the path 
leading from the fort to the Indian camp. Shortly after they had con- 
cealed themselves by the wayside, they saw an Indian approaching on 
horseback, running his horse at full speed. They called to him, but, 
owing to the clatter of the horse's feet, he did not hear or heed their 
call, but kept on at a sweeping gallop. When the Indian had nearly 
passed, they concluded to give him a shot as he rode. They fired ; but, 
as the Indian did not fall, they thought they had missed him. 

As the alarm would soon be spread that an Indian had been shot at, 
and as large numbers of them were near at hand, they commenced an 
immediate retreat to their home. As their neighbors knew the object 
of their expedition, as soon as they returned they were asked, what 
luck ? Wetzel answered that they had bad luck — they had seen but one 
Indian, and he on horseback — that they had fired at him as he rode, 
but he did not fall, but went off scratching his back, as if he had been 
stung by a yellowjacket. The truth was, they had shot him through 
the hips and lower part of the belly. He rode to the fort, and that 
night expired of his wounds. It proved to be a large, fine-looking 
savage, of considerable celebrity, and known by the name of George 
Washington. 

It was soon rumored to General Harmar that Lewis Wetzel was the 



He Shoots a Red Gobbler and Attacks a Camp of Four. 335 

murderer. General Harmar sent a Captain Kingsbury, with a company 
of men, to the Mingo Bottom, with orders to take Wetzel, alive or dead 
— a useless and impotent order. A company of men could as easily 
have drawn Beelzebub out of the bottomless pit, as take Lewis Wetzel, 
by force, from the Mingo Bottom settlement. On the day that Captain 
Kingsbury arrived, there was a shooting match in the neighborhood, and 
Lewis was there. As soon as the object of Captain Kingsbury was 
ascertained, it was resolved to ambush the Captain's barge, and kill him 
and his company. 

Happily Major McMahan was present to prevent this catastrophe? 
who prevailed on Wetzel and his friends to suspend the attack till he 
would pay Captain Kingsbury a visit; perhaps he would induce him to 
return without making an attempt to take Wetzel. With a great deal 
of reluctance, they agreed to suspend the attack till Major McMahan 
should return. The resentment and fury of Wetzel and his friends 
were boiling and blowing like the steam from a scape pipe of a steam- 
boat. "A pretty affair this," said they, ''to hang a man for killing an 
Indian, when they are killing some of our men almost every day." 
Major McMahan informed Captain Kingsbury of the force and fury of 
the people, and assured him that, if he persisted in the attempt to seize 
Wetzel, he would have all the settlers in the country upon him; that 
nothing could save him and his fellows from massacre but a speedy 
return. The Captain took his advice, and forthwith returned to Fort 
Harmar. Wetzel considered the affair now as finally adjusted. 

As Lewis was never long stationary, but ranged, at will, along the 
river from Fort Pitt to the Falls of the Ohio, and was a welcome guest 
and perfectly at home wherever he went, shortly after the attempt to 
seize him by Captain Kingsbury, he got into a canoe, with the intention 
of proceeding down the Ohio to Kentucky. He had a friend, by the 
name of Hamilton Carr, who had lately settled on the island near Fort 
Harmar. Here he stopped, with the view of lodging for the night. By 
some means, which never were explained, General Harmar was advised 
of his being on the island. A guard was sent, who crossed to the island, 
surrounded Mr. Carr's house, went in, and, as Wetzel lay asleep, he 
was seized by numbers, his hands and feet securely bound, and he was 
hurried off into a boat, and from thence placed in a guard-room, where 
he was loaded with irons. 



336 Our Western Border. 



Handcuffed by General Harmar and Makes his Escape. 

The ignominy of wearing iron handcuffs and hobbles, and being chained 
down, to a man of his independent and resolute spirit, was more painful 
than death. Shortly after he was confined, he sent for General Harmar, 
and requested a visit. The General went. Wetzel admitted, without 
hesitation, "that he had shot the Indian." As he did not wish to be 
hung like a dog, he requested the General to give him up to the Indians, 
there being a large number of them present. " He might place them 
all in a circle, with their scalping knives and tomahawks, and give him 
a tomahawk and place him in the midst of the circle, and then let him 
and the Indians fight it out the best way they could." The General 
told him, " that he was an officer appointed by the law, by which he 
must be governed. As the law did not authorize him to make such a 
compromise, he could not grant his request." After a few days' longer 
confinement, he again sent for the General to come and see him ; and 
he did so. Wetzel said "he had never been confined, and could not 
live much longer if he was not permitted some room to walk about in." 

The General ordered the officer on guard to knock off his iron fetters, 
but to leave on his handcuffs, and permit him to walk about on the 
point at the mouth of the Muskingum ; but to be sure and keep a close 
watch upon him. As soon as they were outside the fort gate, Lewis 
began to caper and dance about like a wild colt broke loose from the 
stall. He would start and run a few yards, as if he was about making 
an escape, then turn round and join the guards. The next start he 
would run farther, and then stop. In this way he amused the guard for 
some time, at every start running a little farther. At length he called 
forth all his strength, resolution and activity, and determined on freedom 
or an early grave. He gave a sudden spring forward, and bounded off 
at the top of his speed for the shelter of his beloved woods. His move- 
ment was so quick, and so unexpected, that the guards were taken by 
surprise, and he got nearly a hundred yards before they recovered from 
their astonishment. They fired, but all missed ; they followed in pur- 
suit, but he soon left them out of sight. 

As he was well acquainted with the country, he made for a dense 
thicket, about two or three miles from the fort. In the midst of this 
thicket, he found a tree which had fallen across a log, where the brush 
was very close. Under this tree he squeezed his body. The brush was 
so thick that he could not be discovered unless his pursuers examined 
very closely. As soon as his escape was announced, General Harmar 
itarted the soldiers and Indians in pursuit. After he had lain about two 



Handcuffed by General Harmar and Makes his Escape. 337 

hours in his place of concealment, two Indians came into the thicket, 
and stood on the same log under which he lay concealed ; his heart beat 
so violently he was afraid they would hear it thumping. He could hear 
them hallooing in every direction as they hunted through the brush. 
At length, as the evening wore away the day, he found himself alone 
in the friendly thicket. But what should he do ? His hands were 
fastened with iron cuffs and bolts, and he knew of no friend, on the 
same side of the Ohio, to whom he could apply for assistance. 

He had a friend who had recently put up a cabin on the Virginia side 
of the Ohio, who, he had no doubt, would lend him every assistance in 
his power. But to cross the river was the difficulty. He could not 
make a raft with his hands bound, and though an excellent swimmer, it 
would be risking too much to trust himself to the stream in that dis- 
abled condition. With the most gloomy foreboding of the future, he 
left the thicket as soon as the shades of night began to gather, and 
directed his way to the Ohio, by a circuitous route, which brought him 
to a lonely spot, three or four miles below the fort. He made to this 
place, as he expected guards would be set at every point where he could 
find a canoe. On the opposite shore he saw an acquaintance, Isaac 
Wiseman by name, fishing in a canoe. Not daring to call to him, as he 
could not know whether his enemies were not within sound of his voice, 
he waved his hat for some time to attract the notice of his friend, hav- 
ing previously induced him to direct his eye that course by a gentle 
splashing in the water. 

This brought Wiseman to his assistance, who readily aided his escape. 
Once on the Virginia shore he had nothing to fear, as he had well- 
wishers all through the country, who would have shed blood, if neces- 
sary, for his defence. It was not, however, until years had elapsed, and 
General Harmar returned to Philadelphia^ that it became safe for Wise- 
man to avow the act, such was the weakness of civil authority and the 
absolute supremacy of military rule on the frontier. A file and hammer 
soon released him from the heavy handcuffs. After the night's rest had 
recruited his energies, he set out for fresh adventures, his friend having 
supplied him with a rifle, ammunition and blanket. He took a canoe 
and went down the river for Kentucky, where he should feel safe from 
the grasp of Harmar and his myrmidons. 

Subsequently to Wetzel's escape, General Harmar removed his head- 
quarters to Fort Washington, Cincinnati. One of his first official acts 
there, was to issue a proclamation, offering considerable rewards for the 
apprehension and delivery of Lewis at the garrison there. No man, 
however, was found base or daring enough to attempt this service. 

On his way down Wetzel landed at Point Pleasant, and, following his 
22 



338 Our Western Border. 

usual humor, when he had no work among Indians on the carpet, ranged 
the town, for a few days, with as much unconcern as if he were on his 
own farm. Lieutenant Kingsbury, attached to Harmar's own command, 
happened to be at the mouth of the Kanawha at the time, and scouting 
about, while ignorant of Wetzel's presence, met him — unexpectedly to 
both parties. Lewis, being generally on the qui vive, saw Kingsbury 
first, and halted with great firmness in the path, leaving to the Lieuten- 
ant to decide his own course of procedure, feeling himself prepared and 
ready, whatever that might be. Kingsbury, a brave man himself, had 
too much good feeling toward such a gallant spirit as Wetzel to attempt 
his injury, if it were even safe to do so. He contented himself with 
saying, " Get out of my sight, you Indian killer I" And Lewis, who 
was implacable to the savage only, retired slowly and watchfully, as a 
lion draws off measuring his steps in the presence of the hunters, being 
as willing to avoid unnecessary danger as to seek it when duty called 
him to act. 

He regained his canoe and put off for Limestone, Ky., at which 
place, and at Washington, the county town, he established his headquar- 
ters for some time. Here he engaged on hunting parties, or went out 
with the scouts after Indians. When not actually engaged in such ser- 
vice, he filled up his leisure hours at shooting matches, foot racing or 
wrestling with other hunters. Major Fowler, of Washington, who 
knew him well during this period, described him as a general favorite, 
no less from his personal qualities than for his services. 

While engaged in these occupations at Maysville, Lieutenant Lawler, 
of the regular army, who was going down the Ohio to Fort Washing- 
ton, in what was called a Kentucky boat, full of soldiers, landed at 
Maysville, and found Wetzel sitting in one of the taverns. Returning 
to the boat, he ordered out a file of soldiers, seized Wetzel and dragged 
him on board the boat, and, without a moment's delay, pushed off, and 
that same night delivered him to General Harmar, at Cincinnati, by 
whom the prisoner was again put in irons, preparatory to his trial and 
consequent condemnation, for what Lewis disdained to deny or con- 
ceal, the killing of the Indian at Marietta. But Harmar, like St. Clair, 
although acquainted with the routine of military service, was destitute 
of that practical good sense, always indispensable in frontier settlements, 
in which such severe measures were more likely to rouse the settlers to 
flame than to intimidate them ; and soon found the country around him 
in arms. 

The story of Wetzel's captivity — captured and liable to punishment 
for shooting an Indian merely — spread through the settlement like wild- 
fire, kindling the passions of the frontiermen to a high pitch of fury. 






His Hair Reached to his Calves. 339 

Petitions for his release came in to General Harmar, from all quarters 
and all classes of society. To these, at first, he paid little attention. 
At length the settlements along the Ohio, and some even of the back 
counties, began to embody in military array to release the prisoner vi et 
armis. Representations were made to Judge Symmes, which induced 
him to issue a writ of habeas corpus in the case. John Clawson, and 
other hunters of Columbia, who had gone down to attend his trial, went 
security for Wetzel's good behavior ; and, being discharged, he was es- 
corted with great triumph to Columbia, and treated at that place to his 
supper, etc. 

His Hair Reached to his Calves — Thrilling Adventure. 

Judge Foster, who gave these last particulars, described him at this 
period, (August 26th, 1789,) as about twenty-six years of age, about five 
feet ten inches high. He was full breasted, very broad across the 
shoulders ; his arms were large ; skin, darker than the other brothers ; 
his face, heavily pitted with the small-pox ; his hair, of which he was 
very careful, reached, when combed out, to the calves of the legs ; his 
eyes remarkably black and " piercing as the dagger's point," and, when 
excited, sparkling with such vindictive glances as to indicate plainly 
it was hardly safe to provoke him to wrath. He was taciturn in mixed 
company, although the fiddle of the party among his social friends and 
acquaintances. His morals and habits, compared with those of his gen- 
eral associates and the tone of society in the West of that day, were quite 
exemplary. He certainly had a rare scalp — one for which the savages 
would at any time have given a dozen of their best warriors. 

Shortly after his return from Kentucky, a relative, from Dunkard 
Creek, invited Lewis home with him. The invitation was accepted, 
and the two leisurely wended their way along, hunting and sporting as 
they traveled. On reaching the home of the young man, what should 
they see but, instead of the hospitable roof, a pile of smoking ruins ! 
Wetzel immediately examined the trail, and found that the marauders 
were three Indians and one white man, and that they had taken one 
prisoner. That captive proved to be the betrothed of the young man, 
whom nothing could restrain from pushing on in immediate pursuit. 

Placing himself under the direction of Wetzel, the two strode on, 
hoping to overhaul the enemy before they had crossed the Ohio. It 
was found, after proceeding a short distance, that the savages had taken 
great care to obliterate their trail ; but the keen discernment of Wetzel 
once on the track, and there need not be much difficulty. He knew 
they would make for the river by the. most expeditious route, and there- 



340 Our Western Border. 

fore, disregarding their trail, he pushed on, so as to head them at the 
crossing place. After an hour's hard travel, they struck a path which 
the deer had made, and which their sagacity had taught them to carry 
over knolls, in order to avoid the great curves of ravines. Wetzel fol- 
lowed the path because he knew it was almost in a direct line to the point 
at which he was aiming. Night coming on, the tireless and determined 
hunters partook of a hurried meal, then again pushed forward, guided 
by the lamps hung in the heavens above them, until, toward midnight, 
a heavy cloud shut out their light and obscured the path. 

Early on the following morning they resumed the chase, and, de- 
scending from the elevated ridge, along which they had been passing 
for an hour or two, found themselves in a deep and quiet valley, which 
looked as though human steps had never before pressed its virgin 
soil. Traveling a short distance, they discovered fresh footsteps in 
the soft sand, and, upon close examination, the eye of Wetzel's com- 
panion detected the impress of a small shoe, with nail-heads around the 
heel, which he at once recognized as belonging to his affianced. 
Hour after hour the pursuit was kept up; now tracing the trail across 
the hills, over alluvium, and often detecting it where the wily captors 
had taken to the beds of streams. Late in the afternoon they found 
themselves approaching the Ohio, and, shortly after dark, discovered, 
as they struck the river, the camp of the enemy on the opposite side, 
and just below the mouth of Captina. Swimming the river, the two 
reconnoitered the position of the camp, and discovered the locality of 
the captive. Wetzel proposed waiting until daylight before making 
the attack, but the almost frantic lover was for immediate action. 
Wetzel, however, would listen to no suggestion, and thus they waited 
the break of day. 

At early dawn the savages were up and preparing to leave, when 
Wetzel directed his companion to take good aim at the white renegade, 
while he would make sure work of one of the Indians. They fired at 
the same moment, and with fatal effect. Instantly the young man 
rushed forward to release the captive ; and Wetzel, reloading, pursued 
the two Indians who had taken to the woods to ascertain the strength 
of the attacking party. Wetzel pursued a short distance, and then fired 
his rifle at random, to draw the Indians from their retreat. The trick 
succeeded, and they made after him with uplifted tomahawks, yelling 
at the height of their voices. The adroit hunter soon had his rifle 
loaded, and wheeling suddenly, discharged its contents through the 
body of his nearest pursuer. The other Indian now rushed impetuous- 
ly forward, thinking to dispatch his enemy in a moment. Wetzel, 
however, kept dodging from tree to tree, and, being more fleet than 



A Thrilling Adventure. 341 

the Indian, managed to keep ahead until his unerring gun was again 
loaded, when, turning, he fired, and the last of the party lay dead be- 
fore him. 

Soon after this, our hero determined to visit the extreme South, and 
for that purpose engaged on a flat boat about leaving for New Orleans. 
Many months elapsed before his friends heard anything of his where- 
abouts, and then it was to learn that he was in close confinement at New 
Orleans, under some weighty charge. What the exact nature of this 
charge was, has never been fully ascertained; but it is very certain he 
was imprisoned and treated like a felon for nearly two years. The 
charge is supposed to have been of some trivial character, and has been 
justly regarded as a great outrage. It was alleged, at the time of his 
arrest, to have been for uttering counterfeit coin ; but this being dis- 
proved, it was then charged that he had been guilty of an amour with 
the wife of a Spaniard. 

Of the nature of these charges, however, but little is known. He 
was finally released by the intervention of our government, and reached 
home by way of Philadelphia, to which city he had been sent from New 
Orleans. He remained but two days on Wheeling Creek after his re- 
turn, and De Hass learned from several citizens who saw him then that 
his personal appearance was much changed. From the settlement he 
went to Wheeling, where he remained a few days, and then left again 
for the South, vowing vengeance against the person whom he believed 
to have been accessory to his imprisonment, and in degrading his per- 
son with the vile rust of a felon's chain. During his visit to Wheeling, 
he remained with George Cookis, a relative. Mrs. Cookis plagued him 
about getting married, and jocularly asked whether he ever intended to 
take a wife. " No," he replied, "there is no woman in this world for 
me, but I expect there is one in heaven." 

After an absence of many months, he again returned to the neigh- 
borhood of Wheeling; but whether he avenged his real or imaginary 
wrongs upon the person of the Spaniard alluded to, is not known. 
His propensity to roam the woods was still as great as ever ; and an in- 
cident occurred which showed that he had lost none of his cunning 
while undergoing incarceration at New Orleans. Returning homeward, 
from a hunt north of the Ohio, somewhat fatigued and a little careless 
of his movements, he suddenly espied an Indian, in the very act of 
raising his gun to fire. Both immediately sprang to trees, and there 
they stood for an hour, each afraid of the other. 

What was to be done? To remain there the whole day, for it was 
then early in the morning, was out of the question. Now it was that 
the sagacity of Wetzel displayed itself over the child-like simplicity of 



342 Our Western Border. 

the savage. Cautiously adjusting his bear-skin cap to the end of his 
ramrod — with the slightest, most dubious and hesitating motion, as 
though afraid to venture a glance — the cap protruded. An instant, a 
crack, and off was torn the fatal cap, by the sure ball of the vigilant 
savage. Leaping from his retreat, our hero rapidly advanced upon the 
astonished Indian, and ere the tomahawk could be brought to its work 
of death, the tawny foe sprang convulsively into the air, and, straight- 
ening as he descended, fell upon his face quite dead. 

Wetzel was universally regarded as one of the most efficient scouts 
and most practiced woodsmen of the day. He was frequently engaged 
by parties who desired to hunt up and locate lands, but were afraid of 
the Indians. Under the protection of Lewis Wetzel, however, they 
felt safe, and thus he was often engaged for months at a time. Of those 
who became largely interested in western lands was John Madison, 
brother of James, afterward President Madison. He employed Lewis Wet- 
zel to go with him through the Kanawha region. During their expedi- 
tion they came upon a deserted hunter's camp, in which were concealed 
some goods. Each of them helped himself to a blanket, and that day, 
in crossing Little Kanawha, they were fired upon by a concealed party 
of Indians, and Madison was killed. 

General Clark, the companion of Lewis in the celebrated tour across 
the Rocky Mountains, had heard much of Lewis Wetzel in Kentucky, 
and determined to secure his services in the perilous enterprise. A mes- 
senger was accordingly sent for him, but he was reluctant to go. How- 
ever, he finally consented, and accompanied the party during the first 
three months' travel, but then declined going any farther, and returned 
home. Shortly after this he left again, on a flat boat, and never re- 
turned. He visited a relative named Philip Sikes, living about twenty 
miles in the interior from Natchez, and there made his home until the 
Summer of 1808, when he died. The late venerable David Mclntyre, 
of Belmont county, Ohio, one of the most reliable and respectable 
men in the State, said that he met Lewis Wetzel at Natchez, in April 
1808, and remained with him three days. That Lewis told him he 
would visit his friends during the then approaching Summer. But, alas, 
that visit was never made! His journey was to "that undiscovered 
country, from whose bourne no traveler returns." 

The number of scalps taken by the Wetzels in the course of the long 
Indian war, exceeds belief. There is no doubt they were very little 
short of one hundred. War was the business of their lives. They 
would prowl through the Indian country singly, suffer all the fatigues 
of hasty marches in bad weather, or starvation lying in close conceal- 
ment, watching for a favorable opportunity to inflict death on the de- 



A Thrilling Adventure. 343 

voted victims who would be so unfortunate as to come within their 
vindictive grasp. 

As to Martin and John Wetzel, wrote McDonald, I have but a faint 
recollection of their personal appearance. Jacob Wetzel was a large 
man, of full habit, but not corpulent. He was about six feet high, and 
weighed about two hundred pounds. He was a cheerful, pleasant com- 
panion, and in every respect as much of a gentleman in his manners as 
most of the frontiermen. They were all dark skinned and wore their 
hair, which was very long and thick, curled, and no part of it was suf- 
fered to be cut off. Lewis Wetzel had a full breast, and was very broad 
across the shoulders ; his arms were large ; his limbs were not heavy j 
his skin was darker than his brothers ; his face considerably pitted by 
the small-pox ; his hair, of which he was very careful, reached, when 
combed out, to the calves of his legs ; his eyes were remarkably black, 
and when excited, (which was easily done,) they would sparkle with 
such a vindictive glance as almost to curdle the blood to look at him. 
In his appearance and gait there was something different from other 
men. Where he professed friendship, he was as true as the needle to 
the pole ; his enmity was always dangerous. In mixed company he 
was a man of few words; but with his particular friends he was a social, 
and even a cheerful companion. Notwithstanding their numberless ex- 
ploits in war, they were no braggadocios. When they had killed their 
enemies, they thought no more about it than a butcher would after kill- 
ing a bullock. It was their trade. 

Happily all the old frontiermen were not such dare-devils as were 
the Wetzels. If they had been, the country could never have been set- 
tled. The men who went forward with families, and erected block- 
houses and forts, and remained stationary to defend them, and to culti- 
vate the earth, were the most efficient settlers. The Wetzels, and others 
of the same grit, served as a kind of out-guards, who were continually 
ranging from station to station in search of adventure ; so that it was 
almost impossible for large bodies of the enemy to approach the set- 
tlements without being discovered by those vigilant, restless rangers, 
who would give the alarm to the forts. In this way all were useful ; 
even the timid (for there were some such) would fight in defence of 
their fort. 



Chapter V. 



THE ZANE FAMILY, WHO SETTLE WHEELING. 

% Our forest life was rough and rude, 

And dangers closed us round ; 
But here, amid the green old trees, 

Freedorn was sought and found. 
Oft through our cabins, wintry blasts 

Would rush with shriek and moan ; 
We cared not. Though they were but frail, 

We felt they were our own. 
Oh, free and manly lives we led, 

Mid verdure or mid snow ; 
In the days when we were Pioneers, 

Full fifty years ago.— W. D. Gallagher. 

On a bright sunny morning of June, 1770, a bold and stalwart youth, 
clad in hunting shirt and buckskins, stood upon the high bluff just above 
the confluence of Wheeling Creek with the Ohio. He was, save the 
companionship of his faithful dog, utterly alone. The morning mist 
that covered the Ohio and the bottoms and valleys adjacent, was lazily 
lifting under the beams of a fervid sun. Not a breath of air disturbed 
the glittering dewdrops which sparkled upon the fresh green frondage, 
and as the ravished eye of the intrepid pioneer took in, feature by fea- 
ture, the glorious panorama of hill and valley, wood and water, plain 
and island, now unrolled before him, his heart bounded with delight, 
and "his "prophetic ken" forecast the future. That matchless scene of 
beauty was to him "a joy forever." 

This solitary adventurer was Ebenezer Zane, scarce yet twenty-three 
years old. He was one of that "wild-turkey breed" of heroes, with 
heart full of that game spirit of old, which compelled him to abandon 
home and society, and strike out alone through the wilderness. He was 
so much delighted with what he now saw, and so impressed with the 
manifest advantages of the location, that he concluded to found a set- 
tlement there. Building himself a rude cabin, and remaining one sea- 
son on the Ohio, hunting and exploring, he returned to Berkely county, 



The Zane Family, who Settle Wheeling. 345 

East Virginia, for his family. Acquainting his friends with the magnifi- 
cent country he had traversed, he induced a few farmers, of like spirit 
with himself, to accompany him to the wilderness in 1772. 

Deeming it unsafe as well as unwise to carry his family direct to their 
new abode, he left them at Redstone, on the Monongahela, while he, 
accompanied by his brothers, Silas, Andrew and Jonathan, (of whom 
more anon,) and by Bonnet, Wetzel, Messer and one or two others, 
crossed to the Ohio by way of Catfish Camp, (now Washington, Pa.) 
When within a few hundred yards of the forks of Wheeling Creek, some 
six or seven miles back from the Ohio, an incident occurred, says De 
Hass, the historian of Western Virginia, trivial in its character but im- 
portant in its results. 

Wetzel was riding in advance, when suddenly the girth of his saddle 
broke, compelling him to dismount. Meantime, Silas Zane passed on, 
and coming to the forks of the creek, and greatly admiring the locality, 
commenced tomahawking his right. " Tomahawk rights" were made 
by deadening a few trees and marking the bark of one or more with the 
initials of the person who claimed the locality. These "rights" were 
generally respected by the primitive settlers, and were frequently bought 
and sold. The land thus secured by Silas Zane, one thousand acres, is 
now one of the most valuable and highly improved farms in all Virginia. 

The little band soon stood on the commanding bluff above Wheeling 
Creek and as they gazed at the magnificent outstretch below them, at 
once admitted that the "half had not been told them." With sturdy 
arms they soon opened a clearing and let the blessed sunshine into the 
heart of the sombre forest. Completing his cabin, Ebenezer Zane re- 
moved his family and soon the Wheeling settlement began to grow and 
flourish. Zane's clearing embraced about ten acres, all now a part of 
the city of Wheeling. 

His wife was Elizabeth McColloch, sister to the two daring borderers 
whom we shall speedily mention. She bore him no less than thirteen 
children, the descendants of whom are now scattered all over the 
" Great West." She was a matron of remarkable force of character as 
well as kindness of heart, and her zeal, devotion and generosity were 
celebrated the whole length of the border. She was especially famous'' 
for her skill in the healing art, and many were the sick and wounded 
whom she tended with her own hands and restored to health when all 
had despaired. 

To give one instance only, she and Rebecca Williams dressed the 
wounds of a scout by name of Thomas Mills, who had been brought 
into the fort shot by Indians in no less than fourteen places, while en- 
gaged spearing fish by moonlight. None thought it possible he could 



346 Our Western Border. 

survive, but by simple applications and warm fomentations his indefati- 
gable nurses not only saved his life, but preserved an arm and leg 
which were broken and which all said must come off. 

The fort built by the Wheeling settlers for protection was first called 
Fort Fincastle and afterwards Fort Henry, and for many years was a 
famous one on the border, having withstood two memorable sieges — 
one in 1777 and one in 1782. In the first Colonel Ebenezer Zane's 
home, situate just outside the stockade, was burnt down, but in the last, 
the new one had been fortified and withstood a desperate attack, giving 
rise to one of the most noted scenes in western history and known as 
"Betty Zane's Powder Exploit." 

Colonel Zane's intercourse with the Indians during times of peace, 
was marked with kindness, justness and honorable dealing. After the 
country became settled, he received from time to time various marks of 
distinction from Colonial, State and National governments. He was 
a true gentleman — brave, upright and generous, quick and impetuous in 
his temper and blunt of speech, but true of heart and of great enter- 
prise. His personal appearance was marked. Although not very tall, 
he was uncommonly active and athletic, and in feats of strength and 
prowess was a match for almost any man in his settlement. His com- 
plexion was very dark, his brows were beetling and bushy ; his nose 
very prominent and his eyes black and piercing. He was a devoted 
hunter and spent much of his time in the woods ; but few men could 
out-shoot and fewer still out-run him. In '96, the government, recog- 
nizing Colonel Zane's energy and capacity, employed him to open the 
National Road from Wheeling to Maysville, Ky. This duty, assisted by 
his brother Jonathan, a son-in-law and a noted Indian guide, he per- 
formed satisfactorily, and as a reward, Congress granted him the privi- 
lege of locating military warrants upon three sections of land — the first 
to be at the crossing of the Muskingum (now Zanesville) ; the second 
at the crossing of the Hock-Hocking, (now Lancaster), and the third 
on the east side of the Scioto, opposite Chillicothe. These fine posses- 
sions, as well as other large bodies of land he had acquired, became 
very valuable, and at his death in 181 1, at the age of sixty -four, the 
Colonel was very wealthy. 

Zane's Four Brothers and Sister Betty — Shooting Adventures. 

Colonel Zane's sister Elizabeth was a lady of beauty and accomplish- 
ments, having been educated at a Quaker school in Philadelphia. At a 
very early age she became famous for the powder exploit, hereafter to 
be mentioned. Of his brothers, Silas and Andrew, although prominent 



Zane's Four Brothers and Sister Betty. 347 

i 

settlers and noted hunters, but little has been preserved of note. The 

latter was killed by Indians while crossing the Scioto. Isaac was a more 
singular and conspicuous character. When only nine years of age he 
was taken captive by the Indians, carried to their town and there re- 
mained four years without seeing a white man. Like many another 
white lad in similar circumstances, he became so enamored of the free 
and untrammeled life of the wilderness, that he preferred it to all others. 
Isaac soon became a thorough Indian, not only in dress and habits but 
also in complexion. Arrived at manhood, he married the sister of a 
distinguished Wyandot Chief, by whom he raised a family of eight 
children. He acquired, with his tawny spouse, large landed posses- 
sions, and became a very important character in the Indian Confeder- 
acy ; but, notwithstanding all this, he ever remained true to the whites, 
and was often the means of communicating important intelligence of 
Indian attacks, preparing the backwoods settlements for bloody visita- 
tions. For instance, in 1777, General Hard of Fort Pitt, sent word to 
Wheeling that Isaac Zane had secretly conveyed information to him that 
a large army of savages were about to strike a terrible blow upon the 
border, and asking him to put the whole line on guard. By this timely 
notice every post on the border was prepared for the attack, and when 
it finally fell on Wheeling they were all ready there and escaped with 
comparatively little damage. In consideration of Isaac Zane's valuable 
services, the government granted him a patent for ten thousand acres of 
land on Mad river, where he lived and died. The centre of this tract is 
now Zanesfield, Logan county, Ohio. 

Jonathan, another brother, was perhaps the most experienced hunter 
and woodsman of his day — a man of great energy, resolution and rest- 
less activity. He knew the woods as a farmer does his fields, and used 
to make long excursions in search of game and frequently in search of 
Indians. He rendered invaluable services to the Virginia border in the 
capacity of spy and ranger. He had the confidence of all the back- 
woods settlements, and was noted for his strong, earnest will and his in- 
domitable courage. He frequently acted as guide to noted expeditions, 
more especially to that of Crawford, in 1782. In the one under Brod- 
head, in '79, he was severely wounded. It was he who strongly admon- 
ished Crawford against proceeding, as all the signs gave evidence that 
the Indians were retiring before him in order to gain time, and that in 
the end they would overwhelm the whites. He died in Wheeling, leav- 
ing large landed possessions and several children, the founders of well- 
known western families. 

Jonathan prided himself especially on his skill as a marksman. Once, 
while returning home through some high weeds from hunting some 



348 Our Western Border. 

horses, he saw five savages jump into the Ohio, and swim for Zane's Is- 
land, right opposite Wheeling. Drawing a careful bead on one tufted 
head, he fired and the Indian sank to rise no more. Loading and fir- 
ing as fast as possible, he aimed at one head after another, until three 
more sank from sight. The fifth and last one, alarmed at the terrible 
fate of his companions, and hoping to escape the deadly aim of Zane's 
unerring rifle, took- refuge behind a "sawyer," or up-sticking log, near 
the island. It was some time before Zane could catch sight of any part 
of the Indian exposed, but at last he saw, or thought he saw, a portion 
of his abdomen protruding from under the log. Drawing a fine sight, 
off went the piece, and the savage, after clinging tenaciously for awhile 
to his log, was observed floating down stream. 

We have stated that Colonel Eb. Zane was also a dead shot. About 
the year 1781, some of the whites in the fort observed a savage on the 
island going through certain insulting gestures. He thought he was be- 
yond all reach of danger. Colonel Zane's attention having been drawn 
to the indelicate performances, said he guessed he would spoil his sport. 
So charging his rifle with an additional ball, he waited patiently for the 
fellow to reappear. In a moment the savage's naked body was seen 
emerging from behind a large sycamore, and commencing anew his per- 
formances. The Colonel drew on him a most careful aim, and the next 
instant the red harlequin was seen going through a painful gyration not. 
down "in the bill." 



Major Samuel McColloch and his Famous Leap. 349 



MAJOR SAMUEL McCOLLOCH AND HIS FAMOUS LEAP. 

The story of McColloch's ride for life is as familiar as that of 
Putnam's, and his subsequent leap as that of the mailed Marcus Curtius 
and his noble steed, but few know anything of his history. There were 
two Major McCollochs, John and Samuel, both famed on the Virginia 
border for their daring exploits, and to the former has often been 
attributed the mad leap adown Wheeling hill. But De Hass has incon- 
testibly proved that it was Sam., the elder brother, who did the gallant 
deed. The family was one of the earliest and most noted that settled 
on Short Creek, West Virginia. There were three brothers, all noted 
for bravery, and two sisters, in every way worthy of them. Elizabeth, 
as stated, was the honored wife of Colonel Ebenezer Zane ; her whole 
life was a model of love, virtue and gentle kindness. 

As an Indian hunter, Major Sam. had few superiors. He tracked 
his wily foe with wonderful sagacity, and would unwind his most secret 
trail with the unerring and instinctive tenacity of a bloodhound. 
He could not be frightened or shaken off. It was mainly to his ener- 
getic operations and daring exploits that the frontier was so often saved 
from savage depredation • and, by cutting off the Indian retreat, by at- 
tacking their hunting camps, and by annoying them in every possible 
way, the Major soon became to them an object of fear and intense 
hatred. He was a marked man, and sleepless vengeance was vowed 
against him. 

At the close of the memorable siege of Fort Henry, in 1777, the 
Major had brought forty mounted men from Short Creek. The gates 
were joyfully thrown open to receive them, for never was reinforce- 
ment more timely, since the heroic little garrison had been very hardly 
pressed. A rush was made by the wary foe to prevent an entrance. 
All, however, succeeded in squeezing in but the gallant Major himself, 
who, anxious for the safety of his men, held back until completely 
hemmed in by desperate foes bent upon cutting him off. Finding him- 
self in the most imminent peril of capture, there was nothing left but 
flight. He was admirably mounted on a white horse of great stride and 
power, and giving him the spur, off they dashed, pursued by a yelling 
mob of exultant savages, on the road leading to the summit of the high 
hill back of the fort, and thence to Van Metre's Fort, on Short Creek. 

Knowing the deadly rancor which the savages entertained for him, 
and seeing their desperate endeavors to entrap him, the Major goaded 



350 Our Western Border. 

on his horse, who rushed up the hill at heart-burst speed, and at length 
reached the top. Galloping ahead of his pursuers, the Major was con- 
gratulating himself on his lucky escape, when, just as he gained a point 
in the path, lo and behold ! there encountered him a considerable body 
of Indians, just returning from a plundering expedition among the 
settlements. 

In an instant his full danger was comprehended. With foes in the 
path behind and in front, and both parties spreading about him on the 
third side, escape seemed utterly out of the question. What was to be 
done? He saw his pursuers in a yelling curve about him, stealthily 
gliding around among the trees, as if to completely hem him in. To 
fall into their hands was agonizing to think of. But one only avenue 
of escape remained, and that was by the precipice to one side. Death 
among the rocks and brambles seemed to him, in his extremity, prefer- 
able to the knife and fagot of the pitiless savage, and so he made quick 
resolve to try a plunge over the precipice. Without a moment's hesita- 
tion, then, for the savages were crowding in upon him, he firmly ad- 
justed himself to the saddle, grasped securely the bridle with his left 
hand, and supporting his rifle in the right, pushed his unfaltering horse 
over the abyss. 

A plunge, a crash, crackling timber and tumbling rocks were all that 
the dazed and astounded savages could see or hear. They looked be- 
wildered, one upon the other. The hill where their rash and reckless 
foe had gone over was near three hundred feet high, and in some places 
the slope was almost precipitous ; while, therefore, they could not but 
admire his audacity and rejoice that their most inveterate enemy was 
finished at last, they regretted that he had been so unexpectedly spared 
their tortures. They crowded to the edge of the cliff, but what was 
their amazement and disgust to see the white steed, with the invulnerable 
Major sitting erect upon his back, dashing across the creek which ran at 
the base of the hill, and then careering across the peninsula at a free 
and rapid stride. They were safe at last, and the bafrled savages had 
nothing else to do but return dejected and discomfited to camp. 

After a life of such deeds of " daring emprise," it is sad to chronicle 
the Major's sad and untimely fate. In the Fall of '82, Major McCol- 
loch and his brother John started out on horseback for Van Metre's 
Fort, to track up some " Indian sign." They scouted closely and cau- 
tiously, proceeding almost as far as Fort Henry and not discovering any 
traces of Indians, had gone nearly back to "Girty's Point" on the river, 
when all at once a deadly discharge of rifles took place from a matted 
covert close by the path, by which the Major was vitally hit, falling 
dead from his horse. John escaped himself, but his horse was killed. 







-^V^^AT/F/f— ■ CHUBS 

"Major Sam. McCollocii's Famous Leap Down Wheeling Hill. 

—Seepage 350 



Major Samuel McColloch and his Famous Leap. 351 

Quick as thought, however, he leaped from the writhing animal and 
sprang to the back of his dead brother's horse, and made off to give the 
alarm. As yet no enemy had been seen ; but turning in his saddle, 
after a quick dash of fifty yards or so, the path was filled with whoop- 
ing savages, and one fellow was seen in the very act of scalping the 
unfortunate Major. This was too much for the infuriated brother. In 
an instant his rifle was at his shoulder and flash ! crack ! the mutilating 
savage was rolling on the leaves in the agonies of death. With the 
exception of a slight bullet scratch on the hip, John escaped to the fort 
unhurt and aroused the settlement. 

The next day a party went out fron Van Metre's and gathered up the 
mutilated remains of the poor Major. The savages had actually dis- 
emboweled him, but the viscera all remained except the heart. Some 
years subsequently an Indian, who had been one of the attacking party on 
this occasion, confessed to some whites that the heart of Major McCol- 
loch had been divided and eaten by the party; "so that," he con- 
cluded, " we be bold like Major McColloch." On another occasion the 
Indian, in speaking of the incident, said : " The whites (meaning John 
McColloch) had killed a great captain, but they (the Indians) had 
killed a greater one." 

John McColloch afterwards became almost as distinguished as his 
lamented brother. He did glorious service in the Revolution ; was a 
most devoted patriot and filled many posts of trust and honor. Samuel 
at the time of his "untimely taking off" had only been married six 
months. 



352 



Our Western Border. 



BENJAMIN LOGAN AND HIS HEROIC DEEDS. 



Among the earliest and most respectable of the emigrants to Ken- 
tucky, was General Benjamin Logan. His father was an Irishman, who 
had left his own country early in the eighteenth century and settled in 
Pennsylvania, from which he subsequently removed to Augusta county, 
Virginia. Here he shortly afterward died. Young Logan, as the eld- 
est son, was entitled, by the laws of Virginia, to the whole of the landed 
property, (his father having died intestate). He refused, however, to 
avail himself of this circumstance, and, as the farm upon which the 
family resided was too small to admit of a division, he caused it to be 
sold, and the money to be distributed among his brothers and sisters, 
reserving a portion for his mother. At the age of twenty-one he re- 
moved from Augusta county to the banks of the Holston, where, shortly 
afterward, he purchased a farm and married. 

In 1774 he accompanied Dunmore in his expedition, probably as a 
private. In 1775 he removed to Kentucky, and soon became particu- 
larly distinguished. His person was striking and manly, his hair and 
complexion very dark, his eye keen and penetrating, his countenance 
grave, thoughtful, and expressive of a firmness, probity and intelligence 
which were eminently displayed throughout his life. His education was 
very imperfect, and confined simply to the arts of reading and writing. 
Having remained in Kentucky, in a very exposed situation, until the 
Spring of 1776, he returned for his family, and brought them out to a 
small settlement, called Logan's Fort, not far from Harrodsburg. The 
Indians during this Summer were so numerous and daring in their excur- 
sions, that Logan was compelled to remove his wife and family for safety 
to Harrodsburg, while he himself remained at his cabins and cultivated 
a crop of corn. 

In the Spring of 1777 his wife returned to Logan's Fort, and several 
settlers having joined him, he determined to maintain himself there at 
all risk. His courage was soon put to the test. On the morning of the 
20th of May, a few days after his wife had rejoined him, the women 
were milking the cows at the gate of the little fort, and some of the gar- 
rison attending them, when a party of Indians appeared and fired upon 
them. One man was shot dead and two more wounded, one of them 
mortally. The whole party, including one of the wounded men, in- 
stantly ran into the fort and closed the gate. The enemy quickly 



Benjamin Logan and his Heroic Deeds. 353 

showed themselves upon the edge of a canebrake, within close rifle shot 
of the gate, and seemed numerous and determined. Having a mo- 
ment's leisure to look around, they beheld a spectacle which awakened 
the most lively interest and compassion. 

A man named Harrison had been severely wounded, and still lay near 
the spot where he had fallen, within full view both of the garrison and 
the enemy. The poor fellow was, at intervals, endeavoring to crawl in 
the direction of the fort, and had succeeded in reaching a cluster of 
bushes, which, however, were too thin to shelter his person from the 
enemy. His wife and family were in the fort, and in deep distress at 
his situation. The enemy undoubtedly forbore to fire upon him, from 
the supposition that some of the garrison would attempt to save him, in 
which case they held themselves in readiness to fire upon them from the 
canebrake. The case was a very trying one. It seemed impossible to 
save him without sacrificing the lives of several of the garrison, and 
their numbers already were far too few for an effectual defence, having 
originally amounted only to fifteen men, three of whom had already 
been put hors de combat. 

Yet the spectacle was so moving, and the lamentation of his family 
so distressing, that it seemed equally impossible not to make an effort 
to relieve him. Logan endeavored to persuade some of his men to ac- 
company him in a sally, but so evident and appalling was the danger, 
that all at first refused ; one herculean fellow observing that he was 
" a weakly man," and another declaring that he was sorry for Harri- 
son, "but that the skin was closer than the shirt." At length John 
Martin collected his courage, and declared his willingness to accompany 
Logan, saying, that "he could only die once, and that he was as ready 
now as he ever would be." The two men opened the gate and started 
upon their forlorn expedition, Logan leading the way. 

They had not advanced five steps, when Harrison, perceiving them, 
made a vigorous effort to rise, upon which Martin, supposing him able 
to help himself, immediately sprung back within the gate. Harrison's 
strength almost instantly failed, and he fell at full length upon the grass. 
Logan paused a moment after the desertion of Martin, then suddenly 
sprung forward to the spot where Harrison lay, rushing through a tre- 
mendous shower of rifle balls which was poured upon him from every 
spot around the fort capable of covering an Indian. Seizing the 
wounded man in his arms, he ran with him to the fort, through the same 
heavy fire, and entered it unhurt, although the gate and picketing near 
him were riddled with balls, and his hat and clothes pierced in several 
places. 

23 



354 Our Western Border. 



A Perilous Journey after Powder — Bowman's Singular Behavior, 

The fort was now vigorously assailed in the Indian manner, and as 
vigorously defended by the garrison. The women were all employed in 
moulding bullets, while the men were constantly at their posts. The 
weakness of the garrison was not their only grievance. A distressing 
scarcity of ammunition prevailed, and no supply could be procured 
nearer than Holston. But how was it to be obtained ? The fort was 
closely blockaded, the Indians were swarming in the woods, and chances 
were sadly against the probability of the safe passage of any courier 
through so many dangers ! Under these circumstances, Logan de- 
termined to take the dangerous office upon himself. After encouraging 
the men as well as he could, with the prospect of a safe and speedy re- 
turn, he took advantage of a dark night, and crawled through the In- 
dian encampment without discovery. 

Shunning the ordinary route through Cumberland Gap, he arrived at 
Holston by by-paths which no white man had yet trodden ; through 
canebrakes and thickets ; over tremendous cliffs and precipices, where 
the deer could scarcely obtain footing, and where no vestige of any 
of the human family could be seen. Having obtained a supply of 
powder and lead, he returned through the same almost inaccessible 
paths to the fort, which he found still besieged and now re- 
duced to extremity. The safe return of their leader inspired them with 
fresh courage, and in a few days the appearance of Colonel Bowman's 
party compelled the Indians to retire. 

During the whole of this and the next year, the Indians were exceed- 
ingly troublesome. The Shawnees particularly distinguished them- 
selves by the frequency and inveterate nature of their incursions; and 
as their capital, Chillicothe, was within striking distance, an expedition 
was set on foot against it in 1779, in which Logan served as second in 
command. Captain James Harrod and John Bulger accompanied the 
expedition ; the former of whom, shortly afterward, perished in a lone- 
ly ramble ; and the latter was killed at the Blue Licks. Colonel Bow- 
man commanded in chief. The detachment amounted to one hundred 
and sixty men ; consisted entirely of volunteers, accustomed to Indian 
warfare, and was well officered, but not so fortunate in its commander. 

They left Harrodsburg in July, and took their preliminary measures 
so well that they arrived within a mile of Chillicothe without giving the 
slightest alarm to the enemy. Here the detachment halted at an early 
hour in the night, and, as usual, sent out spies to examine the condition 
of the village. Before midnight they returned, and reported that the 



Bowman's Singular Behavior, 355 

enemy remained unapprised of their being in the neighborhood, and 
were in the most unmilitary security. It was determined that Logan, 
with one-half of the men, should turn to the left and march half way 
around the town, while Bowman, at the head of the remainder, should 
make a corresponding march to the right ; that both parties should pro- 
ceed in silence, until they had met at the opposite extremity of the vil= 
lage, when, having thus completely encircled it, the attack was to 
commence. 

Logan, who was bravery himself, performed his part of the combined 
operation with perfect order and in profound silence; and having 
reached the designated spot, awaited with impatience the arrival of his 
commander. Hour after hour stole away, but Bowman did not appear. 
At length daylight appeared. Logan, still expecting the arrival of his 
Colonel, ordered the men to conceal themselves in the high grass and 
await the expected signal to attack. No orders, however, arrived. In 
the meantime, the men, in shifting about through the grass, alarmed an 
Indian dog, the only sentinel on duty. He instantly began to bay 
loudly, and advanced in the direction of the man who had attracted his 
attention. Presently a solitary Indian left his cabin and walked cau- 
tiously toward the party, halting frequently, rising upon tiptoes, and 
gazing around him. 

Logan's party lay close, with the hope of taking him without giving 
the alarm ; but at that instant a gun was fired in an opposite quarter of 
the town, as was afterwards ascertained, by one of Bowman's party, 
and the Indian, giving one shrill whoop, ran swiftly back to the council 
house. Concealment was now impossible. Logan's party instantly 
sprang up from the grass and rushed upon the village, not doubting for 
a moment that they would be gallantly supported. As they advanced 
they perceived Indians, of all ages and of both sexes, running to the 
great cabin, near the centre of the town, where they collected in full 
force, and appeared determined upon an obstinate defence. Logan in- 
stantly took possession of the houses which had been deserted, and, 
rapidly advancing from cabin to cabin, at length established his de- 
tachment within close rifle shot of the Indian redoubt. 

He now listened impatiently for the firing which should have been 
heard from the opposite extremity of the town, where he supposed 
Bowman's party to be, but to his astonishment, everything remained 
quiet in that quarter. In the meantime, his own position had become 
critical. The Indians had recovered from their panic, and kept up a 
close and heavy fire upon the cabins which covered his men. He had 
pushed his detachment so close to the redoubt, that they could neither 
advance nor retreat without great exposure. The enemy outnumbered 



356 Our Western Border, 

him, and gave indications of a disposition to turn both flanks of his 
position and thus endanger his retreat. 

Under these circumstances, ignorant of the condition of his com- 
mander, and cut ofT from communication with him, he formed the bold 
and judicious resolution, to make a movable breastwork of the planks 
which formed the floor of the cabins, and under cover of it, to rush 
upon the stronghold of the enemy and carry it by main force. Had 
this gallant determination been carried into effect, and had the move- 
ment been promptly seconded, as it ought to have been by Bowman, 
the conflict would have been bloody, and the victory decisive. Most 
probably not an Indian would have escaped, and the consternation 
which such signal vengeance would have spread throughout the Indian 
tribes, might have repressed their incursions for a considerable time. 
But before the necessary steps could be taken, a messenger arrived from 
Bowman, with orders " to retreat !" 

Astonished at such an order, at a time when honor and safety 
required an offensive movement on their part, Logan hastily asked it 
Bowman had been overpowered by the enemy ? No ! Had he ever 
beheld an enemy? No ! What, then, was. the cause of this extraor- 
dinary abandonment of a design so prosperously begun ? He did not 
know : the Colonel had ordered a retreat ! Logan, however reluctantly, 
was compelled to obey. A retreat is always a dispiriting movement, 
and, with militia, is almost certain to terminate in a complete rout. As 
soon as the men were informed of the order, a most irregular and 
tumultuous scene commenced. Not being buoyed up by the mutual 
confidence which is the offspring of discipline, and which sustains 
regular soldiers under all circumstances, they no longer acted in 
concert. 

Each man selected the time, manner and route of his retreat for 
himself. Here a solitary Kentuckian would start up from behind a 
stump, and scud away through the grass, dodging and turning to avoid 
the balls which whistled around him. There a dozen men would run 
from a cabin, and scatter in every direction, each anxious to save him- 
self, and none having leisure to attend to their neighbors. The Indians, 
astonished at seeing men rout themselves in this manner, sallied out of 
their redoubt and pursued the stragglers, as sportsmen would cut up a 
scattered flock of wild geese. They soon united themselves to Bow- 
man's party, who from some unaccountable panic of their commander, 
or fault in themselves, had stood stock still near the spot where Logan 
had left them the night before. 

All was confusion. Some cursed their Colonel ; some reproached 
other officers ; one shouted one thing, one bellowed another ; but all 



Bowman's Singular Behavior. 357 

seemed to agree that they ought to make the best of their way home, 
without the loss of a moment's time. By great exertions on the part 
of Logan, well seconded by Harrod, Bulger, and the late Major G. M. 
Bedinger, of the Blue Licks, some degree of order was restored, and a 
tolerably respectable retreat commenced. The Indians, however, soon 
surrounded them on all sides, and kept up a hot fire, which began to 
grow fatal. Colonel Bowman appeared quite bewildered, and sat upon 
his horse like a pillar of stone, neither giving an order,' nor taking any 
measures to repel the enemy. The sound of rifle shots had, however, 
completely restored the men to their senses, and they readily formed in 
a large hollow square, took trees, and returned the fire with equal vi- 
vacity. The enemy were quickly repelled, and the troops recommenced 
their march. 

But scarcely had they advanced half a mile, when the Indians reap- 
peared, and again opened a fire upon the front, rear and both flanks. 
Again a square was formed, and the enemy repelled ; but scarcely had 
the harassed troops recommenced their march, when the same galling 
fire was opened upon them from every tree, bush and stone capable of 
concealing an Indian. Matters now began to look serious. The 
enemy were evidently endeavoring to detain them, until fresh Indians 
could come up in sufficient force to compel them to lay down their arms. 
The men began to be unsteady, and the panic was rapidly spreading 
from the Colonel to the privates. At this crisis, Logan, Harrod, Bed- 
inger, etc., selected the boldest and best mounted men, and dashing into 
the bushes on horseback, scoured the woods in every direction, forcing 
the Indians from their coverts, and cutting down as many as they could 
overtake. 

This decisive step completely dispersed the enemy, and the weary and 
dispirited troops continued their retreat unmolested. They lost nine 
killed and a few others wounded. But the loss of reputation on the 
part of the Colonel was incalculable, for, as usual, he was the scape- 
goat upon whose head the disgrace of the miscarriage was laid. No 
good reason has ever been assigned for the extraordinary failure of his 
own detachment ; and the subsequent panic which he displayed when 
harassed in the woods, affords room for suspicion that either the dark- 
ness of the night, or the cry of an owl (for he did not see the face of 
an enemy) had robbed the Colonel of his usual presence of mind. 

Logan returned to Kentucky with a reputation increased rather than 
diminished, by the failure of the expedition. His conduct was placed 
in glaring contrast to that of his unfortunate commander, and the 
praise of the one was in exact correspondence to the censure of the 
other. No other affair of consequence occurred until the rash and disas- 



358 - Our Western Border. 

trous battle of the Blue Licks, in which, as we have seen, Logan was 
unable to share. He seems to have remained quietly engaged in agri- 
cultural pursuits until the Summer of 1788, when he conducted an ex- 
pedition against the Mack-a-chack towns on Mad river, which, as usual, 
terminated in burning their villages, and cutting up their cornfields ; 
serving to irritate, but not to subdue the enemy. A single incident at- 
tending this expedition, deserves to be commemorated. We give the 
first version from McClung: 

The Murder of Moluntha by the Fierce Hugh McGary. 

Upon approaching a large village of the Shawnees, from which, as 
usual, most of the inhabitants had fled, an old chief, named Moluntha, 
came out to meet them, fantastically dressed in an old cocked hat, set 
jauntily upon one side of his head, and a fine shawl thrown over his 
shoulders. He carried an enormous pipe in one hand, and a tobacco 
pouch in the other, and strutted out with the air of an old French beau 
to smoke the pipe of peace with his enemies, whom he found himself 
unable to meet in the field. 

Nothing could be more striking than the fearless confidence with 
which he walked through the foremost ranks of the Kentuckians, evi 
dently highly pleased with his own appearance, and enjoying the admira- 
tion which he doubted not that his cocked hat and splendid shawl 
inspired. Many of the Kentuckians were highly amused at the mixture 
of dandyism and gallantry which the poor old man exhibited, and shook 
hands with him very cordially. Unfortunately, however, he at length 
approached Major McGary, whose temper, never particularly sweet, was 
as much inflamed by the sight of an Indian, as that of a wild bull by 
the waving of a red flag. It happened, unfortunately, too, that Mo- 
luntha had been one of the chiefs who commanded at the Blue Licks, a 
disaster which McGary had not yet forgotten. 

Instead of giving his hand as the others had done, McGary scowled 
upon the old man, and asked him if "he recollected the Blue Licks?" 
Moluntha smiled, and merely repeated the word "Blue Licks!" when 
McGary instantly drew his tomahawk and cleft him to the brain. The 
old man received the blow without flinching for a second, and fell dead 
at the feet of his destroyer. Great excitement instantly prevailed in 
the army. Some called it a ruthless murder, and others swore that he 
had done right ; that an Indian was not to be regarded as a human be- 
ing, but ought to be shot down as a wolf whenever and wherever he 
appeared. McGary himself raved like a madman at the reproach of his 
countrymen, and declared, with many bitter oaths, that he would not 



Another Account of Moluntha's Murder. 359 

only kill every Indian whom he met, whether in peace or war, at church 
or market, but that he would equally as readily tomahawk the man who 
blamed him for the act. 

Nothing else, worthy of being mentioned, occurred during the expe- 
dition, and Logan, upon his return, devoted himself exclusively to the 
civil affairs of the country, which about this time began to assume an 
important aspect. 

Another Account of Moluntha's Murder — A Spirited Lad. 

General Lytle, then a lad of only sixteen, was present at Logan's 
destruction of the Mack-a-chack towns on Mad river, and gives a 
graphic account of the whole affair. Logan, he says, burned eight 
towns, destroyed many fields of corn, took seventy or eighty prisoners, 
and killed twenty warriors, among them Moluntha, the head chief of 
the nation. This last act caused deep shame, regret and humiliation to 
the commander-in-chief and his troops. 

" I was extremely solicitous, says Lytle, to try myself in battle. The 
commander of the centre line waved his sword over his head as a signal 
for the troops* to advance. Colonel Daniel Boone and Major Simon 
Kenton commanded the advance, and Colonel Trotter the rear. As 
we approached within half a mile of the town on the left, we saw the 
savages retreating in all directions, making for the swamps, thickets and 
high prairie grass. General Logan waved his sword, and in a voice of 
thunder exclaimed, ' Charge ! from right to left ! ' The horses ap 
peared as impatient for the onset as their riders. I heard of but one 
savage, with the exception of the chief, cry for quarter. They fought 
with desperation so long as they could raise gun, knife or tomahawk. 
We dispatched all the warriors we overtook, and sent the women and 
children prisoners to the rear. 

"We pushed ahead, still hoping to overtake a larger body, when we 
might have something like a general engagement. I was mounted on a 
very fleet grey horse. Fifty of my companions followed me. I had 
not advanced more than a mile before I discovered some of the enemy 
running along the edge of a thicket of hazel and plum bushes. I made 
signs to the men in my rear to come on. I obliqued across the plain 
to get ahead of them, and when I had arrived within easy shot I dis- 
mounted and raised my gun. The warrior I was about to shoot held 
up his hand in token of surrender, and I heard him order the other In- 
dians to stop. 

'•'By this time the men behind had arrived, and were in the act of 
firing. I called them not to fire, as the Indians had surrendered. The 



360 Our Western Border. 

warrior who had surrendered to me, came walking towards me, calling 
his women and children to follow. I advanced to meet him, with my 
right hand extended, but before I could reach him, our men of the right 
wing had surrounded him. I rushed in among the horses. While he 
was giving me his hand, several of our men wished to tomahawk him. 
I informed them they would have to tomahawk me first. We led him 
back to the place where his flag had been. Among the prisoners we 
then took were the chief, his three wives. — one of them a young and 
handsome woman — another of them, the famous Grenadier Squaw, and 
two or three fine young lads. The rest were children. 

' * One of these lads was a remarkably interesting youth, about my own 
age and size. He clung closely to me, and appeared to notice nearly 
everything that was going on. 

"When we arrived at the town, a crowd of our men pressed around to 
see the chief. I stepped aside to fasten my horse, and my prisoner lad 
clung close to my side. A young man by the name of Cumer had been 
to one of the springs to drink. He discovered the young savage by 
my side, and came running towards me. The young Indian supposed 
he was advancing to kill him. As I turned around, in the twinkling of 
an eye, he let fly an arrow at Cumer, for he was armed with a bow. It 
passed through Cumer's dress and grazed his side. The jerk I gave his 
arm undoubtedly saved Cumer. I took away his arrows and sternly 
reprimanded him. I then led him back to the crowd which surrounded 
the prisoners. **■ 

"At the same moment Colonel Hugh McGary, the same man who 
had caused the disaster at the battle of the Blue Licks some years 
before, coming up, General Logan's eye caught that of McGary's. 
'Colonel McGary,' said he, 'you must not molest these prisoners!' 
'I will see to that,' said ^McGary, in reply. I forced my way through 
the crowd to the chief, with my yoking charge by the hand. McGary 
ordered the crowd to open and let him in. He came up to the chief, 
and his first salutation was, 'Were you at the defeat of the Blue Licks?' 
The Indian, not knowing the meaning of the words, or not understand- 
ing the purport of the question, answered, 'Yes.' McGary instantly 
spized an axe from the hands of the Grenadier Squaw, and raised it to 
make a blow at the chief. I threw up my arm to ward off the blow. 
The handle of the axe struck me across the left wrist, and came near 
breaking it. The axe sunk into the head of the chief to the eyes, and 
he fell dead at my feet. Provoked beyond measure at this wanton bar- 
barity, I drew my knife for the purpose of avenging the cruelty by dis- 
patching McGary. My arm was arrested by one of our men, which 
prevented me from inflicting the thrust. McGary escaped from the crowd. 



A Spirited Lad. 361 

" While out with Captain Stucker after a drove of hogs we saw ran- 
king about, I saw an Indian coming along with a deer on his back. The 
fellow happened to raise his eyes the same moment, and look across the 
prairie to the upper town and saw it all in flames. In the act of turn- 
ing my head to tell Captain Stucker of the savage, I discovered Hugh 
Ross, at a distance of sixty or seventy yards, approaching us. I made 
a motion with my hand to Ross to squat down; then taking a tree 
between me and the Indian, I stepped somewhat nearer to get a fairer 
shot — when, at the instant I raised my gun past the tree, the Indian 
being about a hundred yards distant, Ross's ball whistled by me so close 
that I felt the wind of it, and struck the savage in the calf of one of his 
legs. The Indian that moment dropped his deer and sprang into the 
high grass of the prairie, when, before I could draw sight on him, he 
was lost to view. 

' { I was provoked at Ross for shooting when I was near enough to 
have killed him, and now the consequence would be that some of our 
men would lose their lives, as an Indian will only give up with life 
itself. Captain Irwin rode up at this moment with his troop of horse, 
and asked me where the Indian was. I pointed as nearly as I could to 
the spot, cautioning the Captain if he missed him the first charge to 
pass on out of his reach before he wheeled to recharge, or the Indian 
would kill some of his men in the act of wheeling. Whether the Cap- 
tain heard me, I cannot say; at any rate, the warning was not attended 
to, for after passing the Indian a few steps, Captain Irwin ordered his 
men to wheel and recharge across the woods, and in the act of exe- 
cuting the movement, the Indian raised up and shot the Captain dead 
on the spot, still keeping below the level of the grass to deprive us of 
any opportunity of putting a bullet through him. The troop charged 
again ; but the Indian was so active that he had darted into the grass 
some rods from where he had fired at Irwin, and they again missed 
him. 

"By this time several footmen had came up. Captain Stucker and 
myself had each of us taken a tree that stood out on the edge of the 
prairie among the grass, when a Mr. Stofford came up and put his head 
first past one side and then past the other of the tree I was behind. I 
told him not to expose himself that way or he would get shot in a 
twinkling. I had hardly spoken the last word, when the Indian again 
raised up out of the grass. His gun, Stucker's and my own, with four 
or five behind us, all cracked at the same instant. Stofford fell at my 
side, while we rushed on the wounded Indian with our tomahawks. 
Before we had got him dispatched he had made ready the powder in his 
gun and a ball in his mouth, preparing for a third fire, with bullet holes 



362 Our Western Border. 

in his breast that might all have been covered with a man's open hand. 
We found with him Captain Beaseley's rifle — the Captain having been 
killed at the Lower Blue Licks a few days before the army passed 
through that place on their way to the towns. *?>, 

" Next morning General Logan ordered an attack on a town seven 
or eight miles northwest of where we then were. This town was also 
burnt, together with an English block-house, of huge size and thickness. 
Mr. Isaac Zane was at that time living at the village, he being married 
to a squaw, and having there at the time his wife and several children. 
The name of the Indian chief killed by McGary was Moluntha, the 
Great Sachem of the Shawnees. The Grenadier Squaw, his wife, was 
sister to Cornstalk, who (basely murdered) died at Point Pleasant." 

Jonathan Alder, an account of whose captivity we give further on, 
was living with the Indians at the time. He says the approach of 
Logan's army was communicated by a Frenchman, but that as the 
whites arrived sooner than expected, the surprise was complete. Most 
of the Indians were absent hunting at the time. A runner came early 
one morning to the village where Alder lived, and said that Mack-a- 
chack- had been destroyed. Alder, with the people of the village, 
principally squaws and children, retreated two days, and suffered great- 
ly for want of food. Not one among them could hunt, and they had 
to live for eight days on paw-paws, muscles and craw fish. All that 
Winter they lived on raccoons, with no salt, and without bread, hominy 
or corn. So hard were they pushed that for a time they had to subsist 
on a sort of wild potato, as the raccoons had been suckled down so 
poor that dogs would hardly eat them, but they threw them on the fire, 
singed the hair off, and ate skin and all." 

At Colonel Grant's defeat in Indiana, a desperate action, this same 
Lytle, then but seventeen years of age, had both his arms shattered, his 
face powder-burnt, his hair singed to the roots, and no less than nine- 
teen bullets passed through his body and clothing. In this condition, a 
retreat being ordered, he succeeded in bringing off the field several of 
his friends, generously aiding the wounded and exhausted by placing 
them on horses, while he himself ran forward in advance of the last 
remnant of the retreating party to stop the only boat on the Ohio at 
that time which could take them across the river and save them. On 
reaching the water he found the boat just putting for the Kentucky 
shore and the ferrymen very reluctant to obey his order, one of them 
declaring * ' that it was better a few should perish than that all 
should be sacrificed." Taking aim with his rifle/ Lytle now swore he 
would shoot the first man who pulled an oar until all his friends were 
aboard. In this way all were secured, but the boat being crowded 



Moluntha's Son Lawba and Hts Romanttc Death. 363 

almost to dipping Lytle disdained to get aboard, but running up the 
bank to where some horses stood panting under the willows, he leaped 
to the back of the strongest he could find, boldly plunged into the 
stream and holding on to the mane by his teeth, succeeded in reaching 
the middle of the river, where he was taken aboard bleeding and almost 
fainting from his wounds. By this time the balls of the enemy were 
rattling like hail about the boat, but they escaped after all. 

Moluntha's Son Lawba and His Romantic Death. 

The brave and spirited lad, son of Moluntha, who was saved by Lytle, 
had afterwards a prominent and honorable career. He was taken with 
other prisoners to Kentucky, but General Logan was so pleased with 
his spirit and brightness, that he made him a member of his own house- 
hold, and he there grew up to manhood, being afterwards known as 
Captain Logan. His Indian name was Spemica Lawba, or The High 
Horn. He afterwards rose to the rank of Civil Chief, on account of 
his many estimable qualities. His personal appearance was command- 
ing, he being six feet in height and weighing near two hundred pounds. 
He, from that time, continued the unwavering friend of the Americans, 
and fought on their side with great bravery. He lost his life in 1812 
under melancholy and romantic circumstances, which indicated that he 
was a man of the keenest sense of honor. 

In November, 181 2, General Harrison directed Logan to take a small 
party and reconnoitre the country towards Maumee Rapids. Being met 
by a far superior body of the enemy, they were compelled to retreat. 
Logan, Bright Horn and Captain Johnny, effected their escape to the 
left wing of the army, under command of General Winchester. A cer- 
tain general of Kentucky troops, without the slightest grounds, accused 
Logan of infidelity to the cause and of giving intelligence to the en- 
emy. Indignant and outraged at the base charge, Logan determined 
to give proof of his loyalty in a way that could not be mistaken, and 
said he would start out on a scout the very next morning, and either re- 
turn with trophies or leave his bones bleaching in the woods. 

Accordingly, at the earliest dawn, he was off, in company with Cap- 
tain Johnny and Bright Horn. At their first nooning they were sud- 
denly surprised by a party of seven savages, among whom were young- 
Elliott, a half breed, and the famous Pottawattamie Chief, Winnemac. 
Logan made no resistance, but, with great presence of mind, extended 
his hand to Winnemac, and proceeded to inform him that he and his com- 
panions had been disgusted with the American service, and were on 
their way to the British. Winnemac was suspicious, and proceeded to 



364 Our Western Border. 

disarm and surround the three, and then started off for the British 
camp. Winnemac afterwards became more confident and was induced 
to restore to the prisoners their arms again. While doggedly trudging 
along, Logan managed to communicate to his two friends a plan of at- 
tack. The guns being loaded, they only had to put some extra bullets 
in their mouths to be ready for a prompt reload. Captain Johnny was 
noticed in this sly manoeuvre and adroitly averted suspicion by remark- 
ing, " me chaw heap tobac." 

Evening camp was made on Turkeyfoot, and while most of the cap- 
tors were roaming around after supper in search of blackhaws, Logan 
gave the signal, and all fired at those remaining. Two dropped at 
once, but the third required a second shot, and in the meantime the re- 
mainder of the party hurried back, returned the fire, and all " treed." 
There being four of the enemy and only three of Logan's party, all the 
movements of the enemy could not be watched. The unwatched foe 
thus was enabled to pass around until Logan's person was uncovered by 
his tree, and then shot him through the body. By this time Logan's 
party had wounded two of the four, causing them to fall back. 

Captain Johnny now mounted Logan on one horse and Bright Horn, 
also wounded, on another, and started them for Winchester's Camp, which 
they reached about midnight. Captain Johnny, with Winnemac's scalp, 
got in on foot next morning. It was subsequently learned that the two 
wounded of the enemy died, making five out of the seven slain by Cap- 
tain Logan's party. When Logan's wound and the occasion of it be- 
came noised about the camp, it produced a deep and mournful sensa- 
tion. Logan's popularity was great, being very largely esteemed for 
his fidelity and the nobility of his nature. He lived but two or three 
days, ever in extreme bodily agony, and was buried at Fort Winches- 
ter with the honors of war. 

Previous to his death, he related the particulars of the fight to a friend, 
declaring that he prized his honor more than his life, and now that he 
had vindicated that, he died satisfied. Shortly after, while writhing 
with pain, he was observed to smile, and, upon being asked the cause, 
replied that when he recalled the manner in which Captain Johnny took 
off the scalp of Winnemac, while at the same time he was obliged to 
keep moving around with one eye watching the movements of the rov- 
ing fourth Indian, he could not refrain from laughing — an incident 
showing " the ruling passion strong in death." 

Logan left a dying request to Colonel Johnston, that his two sons 
should be educated in Kentucky, under care of Major Hardin. When 
peace was restored, Johnston made application to the chiefs of Lawba's 
tribe to fulfill his dying wish, but they were embarrassed and unwilling 



Two Adventures of Captain Johnny. 365 

to comply, and in this the mother of the two boys agreed. On no ac- 
count would they send them to Kentucky, but would consent that they 
might be schooled at Piqua, -Ohio, which was done, the boys boarding 
in a religious family. The mother, however, was a bad woman, and 
thwarted all plans for her sons' improvement, frequently taking them 
off for weeks, giving them bad advice and buying whiskey several times 
to make them drunk. She finally persuaded them off altogether. Both 
mother and children afterwards emigrated west, and there became the 
wildest of their race. 

Two Adventures of Captain Johnny — A Desperate Indian Duel. 

There was a certain Indian called John Cush, who lived much among 
the whites about Chillicothe. He was a large, muscular man, pleasant 
and good humored. Every Fall he would take to the woods on a grand 
hunt. In the Fall of 1779, he happened on Captain Johnny's camp 
while a white rum trader was there. Cush and Johnny, being pretty 
wild with liquor, fell into a quarrel but were separated. Both, how- 
ever, being terribly enraged, arranged for a duel next morning with 
knives and tomahawks. They stuck a post on the south side of a log; 
made on the log a notch, and agreed that when the shadow of the post 
struck the notch the duel should commence. When the shadow drew 
near the spot, they deliberately and in gloomy silence took their station 
on the log. 

At length, the shadow having touched the notch, the two desperadoes, 
thirsting for each other's blood, simultaneously sprang to their feet with 
each a tomahawk in the right hand and a scalping knife in the left 
hand, and flew at each other with the fury of catamounts, swinging 
their tomahawks around their heads and yelling in the most terrific 
manner. Language fails to describe the horrid scene. After several 
passes and many wounds, Johnny's tomahawk fell on Cuslrs head and 
left him lifeless on the ground. 

About the year 1800, while Johnny was at his hunting camp, he and 
his wife had a quarrel and mutually agreed to separate. After they had 
divided their property, the wife insisted on keeping the one child, a lit- 
tle boy of two or three years. The wife laid hold of the child and the 
wrathful husband attempted to wrest it from her. At length, Johnny's 
passion being roused to fury, he raised his ponderous fist, knocked his 
wife down, seized the boy, and, carrying him to a neighboring log, de- 
liberately cut him into two parts, and .then throwing one-half to his 
wife, bade her take it but never again to show her face or he would 
treat her in the same manner. Thus ended this cruel and brutal scene 
of savage tragedy. 



366 Our Western Border. 



CAPTAIN WILLIAM HARDIN, PIONEER OF KENTUCKY. 

One of the earliest settlers in Kentucky was Captain William Hardin, a 
noted hunter and Indian fighter — a man of dauntless courage and reso- 
lution — cool, calm and self-possessed in the midst of most appalling 
dangers, and perfectly skilled in all the wiles and arts of border warfare. 
Soon after Captain Hardin had erected a station in what is now the 
county of Breckinridge, intelligence was received that the Indians were 
building a town on Saline Creek, in the present State of Illinois. Har- 
din, not well pleased that the savages should establish themselves in 
such close vicinity to his little settlement, determined to dislodge them. 
He soon had collected around him a force of eighty select men ; the 
hardiest and boldest of those noted hunters whose lives were passed in a 
continual round of perilous adventure. 

When this force reached the vicinity of the lick, they discovered In- 
dian signs, and approaching the town cautiously, they found it in the 
possession of three warriors who had been left to guard the camp. 
Hardin ordered his men to fire on them, which they did, killing two. 
The third attempted to make his escape, but was shot down as he ran. 
Lie succeeded, however, in regaining his feet and ran fifty yards, leaped 
up a perpendicular bank, six feet high, and fell dead. 

In the meantime, Hardin, correctly supposing that the main body of 
thelndians were out on a hunting expedition, and would shortly return, 
made immediate preparation for battle. He accordingly selected a 
place where a few acres of timbered land were surrounded on all sides 
by the prairie. Here he posted his men with orders to conceal them- 
selves behind the trees, and reserve their fire until the Indians should 
approach within twenty-five yard^. Soon after the little band had taken 
their position, they discovered the Indians rapidly approaching on their 
trail and numbering apparently between eighty and a hundred men. 
When the savages had arrived within one hundred yards of the position 
of the Kentuckians, one. of the men, in his impatience to begin the bat- 
tle, forgot the order of the Captain, and fired his gun. Immediately 
the Indians charged, and the fight commenced in earnest. 

At the first fire Captain Hardin was shot through the thighs. With- 
out, however, resigning his command, or yielding to the pain of his 
wound, he sat down on a large log, and, during the whole action, con- 
tinued to encourage his men and give forth his orders, with as much 



Captain Bland Ballard and his Adventures. 367 

coolness, promptitude and self-possession, as if engaged in the most 
ordinary avocation. This more than Spartan firmness and resolution 
was not, however, anything very remarkable in the early history of 
Kentucky. Every battlefield furnished many examples of similar hero- 
ism The iron men of those times seem, indeed, to have been born 
insensible to fear and impregnable to pain. The coolness, courage and 
unyielding determination of Hardin, in this trying situation, no doubt 
contributed greatly to the success of the day ; and after a severe con- 
test, in which some thirty of the savages fell, they were finally repulsed. 
The loss of the whites, in killed and wounded, was very considerable. 
During the action the parties were frequently engaged hand to hand. 



CAPTAIN BLAND BALLARD AND HIS ADVENTURES 

This distinguished pioneer went to Kentucky in 1777; was, like his 
compeers, long engaged in the defence of the country of his adoption, 
and, after serving in Bowman's campaign in '79, accompanied General 
Clark's expedition against the Pickaway towns in '81, on which occa- 
sion he was severely wounded. In '86 he served as a spy for Clark, and 
in '91 as guide, and was with General Wayne at the decisive battle of 
Fallen Timbers in '94. 

During his three years' service as spy with Clark he had many exciting 
rencontres with Indians. One occurred near Louisville. He was 
scouting down the river and heard, early one morning, a noise on the 
Indiana shore. He sought concealment, and, when the fog cleared, 
discovered a canoe with three savages approaching. When within range 
he fired and killed one. The ethers jumped overboard and tried to get 
their canoe into deep water, but before they succeeded he shot a second, 
and finally the third. Upon reporting to General Clark the game he 
had bagged, a party was sent down and buried the three bodies. For 
this service Clark gave him a linen shirt, of which the tough pioneer 
was very proud, his previous shirts being only of buckskin. 

A few years later the savages attacked the little fort on Tick Creek, 
where his father resided. Ballard, Sr., had moved outside the fort to 
be near a sugar camp. When a younger brother had gone out to chop 
some wood for the fire, he was shot by prowling Indians, who then as- 
sailed the cabin. The inmates barred the door and prepared for de- 
fence. His father was the only man in the house, and the only men in 
the fort were one old man and Bland Ballard, the latter of whom, as 



3G3 Our Western Border. 

soon as he heard firing, proceeded as near as was safe to his father's 
cabin and commenced using his unerring rifle with the best effect. The 
savages had burst into the cabin and killed old Ballard, but not before 
he had first killed two of them. They also murdered young Ballard's 
full sister, a half sister, his step-mother, and tomahawked his younger 
sister, who, however, afterwards recovered. The step-mother was pur- 
sued out of the back door by an eager savage, and just as his tomahawk 
descended, a bullet from young Ballard's rifle laid him low. The 
savage and the step-mother expired together. The Indians numbered 
fifteen, but before they got fairly off with their booty, had lost six or 
seven. 

At one time Ballard was taken captive by five Indians, a little above 
Louisville, and taken to their camp, where he was treated well, but they 
neglected to tie him. The next day, while they were engaged in horse- 
racing, his guards left him to enjoy the sport. Near him stood a fine 
black horse, recently stolen from Beargrass. Springing to his back, 
Ballard made off, when the character of the race changed, it being now 
one for life and death. He was pursued for over twenty miles to the 
river, but succeeded in making good his escape, the gallant horse who 
had saved him dying, however, shortly after, from his extraordinary 
exertions. 

At another time the Indians stole his horse at night. He distinctly 
heard them while they took the beast from the door to which he was 
tied. Ballard's energy and sagacity, however, were such that, by taking 
a short cut, " across country," he was enabled to get in advance of the 
exultant thieves before they reached the Ohio. Putting himself in am- 
bush by the trail they would most likely pass, a party of three soon 
hove in sight. Drawing a careful bead on the Indian mounted on his 
own horse, he dropped him, and Ballard not only succeeded in catch- 
ing the frightened animal in its flight, but in escaping without any 
injury. 

In after life Major Ballard repeatedly represented the people of Shelby 
county in the Legislature ; commanded a company under Harrison in 
1 812-13, and was wounded and taken prisoner at the battle of the 
Raisin. In 1847 Ballard was living yet, a fine specimen of the old- 
style Kentucky Pioneer. 



Exciting Adventure of Big Joe Logston. 369 



EXCITING ADVENTURE OF "BIG JOE LOGSTON." 

The subject of our sketch had somewhat notable parents. Old Joe 
Logston was a very large, athletic man, with uncommon muscular 
strength. His wife was not remarkable in height, but, like the Dutch- 
man's horse, was built right up from the ground and had the strength 
of three ordinary women. The son was no discredit to them, but soon 
outstripped his father in strength, size and activity. It was often said 
to growing, stout-looking youth, "You'll soon be as great as Big Joe 
Logston." The family lived at first in one of the most rugged and in- 
hospitable regions of the Allegheny Mountains, from which Joe some- 
times descended in order to exchange his pelts for lead, powder and 
other articles. While in society he entered with great zest into all the 
various athletic sports of the day. No Kentuckian could ever, with 
greater propriety than he, have said, " I can out-run, out-leap, out- 
jump, throw down, drag out and whip any man in the country." As 
to the use of the rifle he was reputed one of the quickest and surest 
centre-shots to be found. With all this, as is usual with men of true 
grit, Joe was good natured and never sought a quarrel. For many 
years he waged a stubborn and unintermittent war with the bears, pan- 
thers, wolves and rattlesnakes with which his wild haunts abounded, but 
he persistently maintained his ground until, like Daniel Boone before 
him, he learned to tire of encroachments on hunting grounds he began 
to deem his own. One man pitched his cabin six miles east of him, 
another a few miles west, and finally one, with a numerous family, had 
the impudence to locate within two miles of him, which was too much, 
so, in great disgust, he gathered up his traps and migrated to Barren river, 
Ky.j where he was in no danger of hearing the crack of any man's rifle 
but his own. No one, it may easily be believed, was better qualified 
to live on a perilous and exposed frontier than Joe. His part of the 
country was subject to frequent visitations from the Cherokees, and they 
bore him about as much love as he did them. There was not a particle 
of fear in Joe's composition. Among a race of men unusually daring 
and reckless, Joe was considered uncommonly so. Hitherto he had only 
encountered and overcome wild beasts, but now he had a different foe 
to deal with, and as "it stirs the more to rouse a lion than to start a 
hare," Joe was kept somewhat excited. The savages soon made a sud- 
den hostile attack, and all that escaped slaughter were driven into one 
of the rude stockades of the border. Joe did not relish this. He soon 
24 



370 Our Western Border. 

became restless al his confinement and would insist on some of his more 
unrecking companions going outside to hunt up the abandoned cat 
tie. Finding none to join him, he, mounted on his good nag, sallied 
out alone. 

He ransacked the woods all day, but finding no cattle, which, indeed, 
had been driven off by the wily savages, he was returning along the 
path to the fort and came under a fruitful grapevine, whose rich and 
tempting clusters hung within reach. Laying his rifle across the pommel 
of his saddle, he plucked his hat full of the fragrant fruit and then rode 
carelessly along, eating his grapes, until the cracks of two rifles, one 
from either side of his woodland path, gave him a rude awakening from 
his repast. One of the balls passed directly through the paps of his 
breast, which, for a male, were remarkably prominent. The other ball 
struck his poor beast just behind the saddle and he sank in his tracks. 

Joe w T as greatly surprised but not discomfited. He might now have 
taken to his heels, and so fleet was he that none could have caught him. 
But our Kentuckian was not of that kind. The wound in his breast 
and his rude fall aroused his ire, so that when one athletic Indian leaped 
towards him, Joe drew a rapid bead on him, which his quick and wary 
antagonist seeing, sprang behind two pretty large saplings, some small 
distance apart, but neither of them large enough to cover his body. 
He now commenced dancing from one to the other in order to disturb 
the white man's aim until his companion could shoot him down. Joe 
followed the motions of the big savage with his gun, but kept one wary, 
eye peering about for the other redskin, whom at last he discovered 
loading a gun behind a tree not quite large enough to cover him. When 
in the act of pushing down his bullet, he exposed one of his hips. 
This was Joe's opportunity, so, wheeling suddenly about, he let fly and 
brought the fellow quickly to earth. 

The big savage then, with a horrid yell, rushed upon him with- his 
uplifted tomahawk. Here were two stout warriors met, each determined 
to do or die. The reddy had rather the advantage in size and activity, 
but Joe in weight and muscular strength. The savage made a halt at 
the distance of fifteen feet, and cast his hatchet. Joe quickly, however, 
had his eye on it and dodged, and the keen weapon whizzed past harm- 
lens and beyond the reach of either. Quick as thought Kantuck clubbed 
his rifle and sprang forward in his turn, but his opponent leaped into 
some brush and dodged behind the saplings to avoid the blows. At 
length Joe, thinking his chance had come at last, made a side blow with 
such force that, missing the dodging Indian, it struck a tree, was broken 
dose to the barrel, and, what was worse, flew out of his stunned hands 
quite beyond reach, 



Exciting Adventure of Big Joe Logston. 371 

Here was a pretty fix for a modest man to be in ! The infuriated 
savage now gave another exulting and blood-curdling yell, and sprang 
at him like a wild beast. Neither of them had any weapon, and the 
Indian, seeing Logston bleeding freely, thought he could easily throw 
and master his burly antagonist. He argued without his host. The 
two grappled at once, and a most desperate struggle ensued. Joe could 
throw the slippery savage down but could not hold him there, for, being 
naked from the waist up, and with his hide oiled, he would still elude 
his foe's grasp, and spring to his feet again. After throwing the reddy 
thus several times, and finding the desperate exertion was fast pumping 
all his wind out of him, Joe was rapidly forced to the conclusion that 
he must at once change his tactics or lose his scalp. He now threw the 
Indian once again, but this time without attempting to hold him; he 
jumped back from him, and as his panting foe was staggering to his pins, 
somewhat weak and "groggy," let fly a terrible fist blow, about as per- 
suasive as the playful kick of a mule, which caused the other to fall back, 
and as he would rise again, Logston would give him blow after blow, 
the Indian rising slower and sadder each time. Old Kan tuck now had 
it his own way, and at last succeeded in delivering a terrible blow in 
the burr of the ear, which felled the big savage, and left him without 
either breath or motion. 

Joe now jumped upon him, and, thinking he could dispatch him by 
choking, grasped his neck with his left hand, while keeping his right 
ready for emergencies. But the big Indian was no such a man, and 
Logston found his right arm in motion, and, on casting his eye down, 
discovered him making an effort to unsheath a knife that was hanging 
at his belt. The blade was short and so sunk in its sheath that it was 
necessary to force it up gradually by pressing against the point. This, 
indeed, was what the game savage was doing, and with good success. 
His watchful antagonist, however, kept a wary eye upon it, but he 
allowed the savage to work away until the handle was out, when Joe 
suddenly grasped it, jerked it out of the sheath and sunk it up to the 
handle into the Indian's breast, who gave a death groan and expired. 

The other Indian was now to be thought of. It was not certain yet 
how far he had been crippled. It was found he had been severely 
wounded, but that, with the well-known desperation and thirst for 
revenge which characterizes the American savage, he had crawled some 
distance towards them, had propped his broken back against a log, 
and was trying to raise his gun to shoot, but in attempting to do this he 
would fall forward, and had to push against his gun to raise himself 
again. Logston, seeing that he was safe from him, made as soon as pos- 
sible for the fort, which he reached about nightfall, and a pitiable plight 



372 Our Western Border. 

he was in — blood and dirt from the crown of his head to the sole of his 
moccasin ; no horse, no hat and no gun. They would scarce believe 
his bloody story, but next morning a company was made up to go to 
the battle ground. When they approached there was no appearance of 
dead Indians, and nothing of all Joe had talked of but the dead horse. 
A trail, however, was soon found, and an appearance as if something 
had been dragged along it. On pursuing it they found the big Indian, 
dead as Julius Caesar, lying behind a log and covered up with leaves. 
Still following the trail some hundred yards further, they found the bro- 
ken-backed Indian, lying on his back, with his own knife sticking up to 
the hilt in his body, just below the breast bone, evidently showing that 
he had killed himself. After a long search they at last found the knife 
by which the big savage had been killed, forced down into the ground, 
apparently by the weight of a heel. This had been done by the crip- 
pled Indian, and the great efforts he must have made in his crippled and 
desperate condition to effect his purpose, furnishes one more instance of 
what Indians are capable under the greatest extremities. Some years 
after peace had been declared with the Indians, that frontier, like many 
others, became infested with a gang of outlaws, and it was in a contest 
between them and a band of "regulators" that Big Joe Logston lost 
his life. 



JACK WELLS' DREAM AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 

About the year 1777 a singular circumstance took place in Bedford 
county, Pa. A rather wealthy man named Jack Wells had gone with 
his family to the nearest fort for protection. In the Fall he took six or 
seven men, and an Irish girl to cook, and returned to his clearing to se- 
cure his potato crop. The night before starting back, Wells dreamed 
he had been attacked and gored by a bull. So strong an impression 
did this dream make, that he was sure some great danger impended, 
and so told his people. He slept again, and dreamed he was about to 
shoot a deer, and that when cocking his gun the main-spring broke. 
He again awoke, went to his gun to examine if all were right, and in 
cocking it, the main-spring broke. He was now alarmed, and they 
made haste to depart. To prevent delay, the girl was put on the only 
horse and started off first. 

Before they had gone far, Wells' dog ran back as if scenting danger. 
Wells called him again and again, but he invariably kept running back 



Jack Wells' Dream and What Came of It. 373 

to the house. Not wishing to abandon him, Wells started back, when 
five Indians sprang up from behind a fallen tree and came forward with 
extended hands. The men fled at once, and so would Wells, but 
he thought it useless. As the savages approached, however, he fancied 
the looks of one very powerful fellow boded no good, and he deter- 
mined to risk flight. As the Indian approached, Wells flung at him his 
broken rifle and dashed off for the woods. Instead of firing, the 
savages joined in pursuit, seeming desirous of taking him prisoner. 
When, however, they found the fugitive was gaining on them, at a sig- 
nal, they all stopped still in their tracks and fired at him together. 
Every bullet struck him, but without dropping him or retarding his 
flight. 

Soon after he passed the place where his companions were concealed, 
and begged them, for God's sake, to fire and save him and themselves. 
They were afraid, and kept quiet. Wells continued his flight at heart- 
burst speed, and soon overtook the girl on the horse. She, brave 
woman, quickly understood his danger, instantly dismounted, and urged 
him to take her place while she should hide herself. He mounted, but 
without whip, and could not get the old Bucephalus out of a trot. 
This delay soon brought the Indians within sight, and soon as they 
were near enough they fired, one of the balls striking him in the hip 
and lodging in his groin. But this saved his life, for the noise 
frightened the old horse into a gallop, and he escaped, but suffered 
severely for some time afterwards. 

The Indians were afterwards pursued in their turn, and being sur- 
prised at their morning meal, four of them were killed and one escaped. 
A prisoner with this tribe afterwards related, however, that this fifth sav- 
age came home with leaves stuffed in bullet holes in his chest. A scout 
by the name of John Lane was out shortly after, under Captain 
Phillips, but became separated from the rest. On returning to the fort, 
he found them still absent and led another party in search of them. 
Within only a mile or two of the fort they found Captain Phillips and 
the whole of his men, fifteen in number, killed and scalped. When 
found they were all tied to saplings, and their bodies completely rid- 
dled. Another party, under Captain Dorsey, were cut off near the 
same time. The small predatory excursions of the Indians were some- 
times quite as destructive as their regular encounters. 



374 Our Western Border. 



MAJOR ROBERT BENHAM AND HIS STRANGE ADVENTURE. 

In the Autumn of 1779, a number of keel boats were ascending the 
Ohio, under the command of Major Rodgers, and had advanced as far 
as the mouth of Licking without accident. Here, however, they ob- 
served a few Indians standing upon the southern extremity of a sand 
bar, while a canoe, rowed by three others, was in the act of putting off 
from the Kentucky shore, as if for the purpose of taking them aboard. 
Rodgers instantly ordered the boats to be made fast on the Kentucky 
shore, while the crew, to the number of seventy men, well armed, cau- 
tiously advanced in such a manner as to encircle the spot where the en- 
emy had been seen to land. Only five or six Indians had been seen, 
and no one dreamed of encountering more than fifteen or twenty ene- 
mies. 

When Rodgers, however, had, as he supposed, completely surrounded 
the enemy, and was preparing to rush upon them from several quarters 
at once, he was thunderstruck at beholding several hundred savages sud- 
denly spring up in front, rear and upon both flanks ! They instantly 
poured in a close discharge of rifles, and then, throwing down their 
guns, fell upon the survivors with the tomahawk. The panic was complete 
and the slaughter prodigious. Major Rodgers, together with forty-five 
of his men, were almost instantly destroyed. The survivors made an 
effort to regain their boats, but the five men who had been left in charge 
of them had immediately put off from shore in the hindmost boat, and 
the enemy had already gained possession of the others. Disappointed 
in the attempt, they turned furiously upon the enemy, and, aided by 
the approach of darkness, forced their way through their lines, and, with 
the loss of several severely wounded, at length effected their escape to 
Harrodsburg. 

Among the wounded was Captain Robert Benham. Shortly after 
breaking through the enemy's line, he was shot through both hips, and, 
the bones being shattered, he instantly fell to the ground. Fortunately 
a large tree had lately fallen near the spot where he lay, and, with great 
pain, he dragged himself into the top, and lay concealed among the 
branches. The Indians, eager in pursuit of the others, passed him 
without notice, and by midnight all was quiet. On the following day, 
the Indians returned to the battle ground, in order to strip the dead and 
take care of the boats. Benham, although in danger of famishing, per- 



Major Robert Benham and His Strange Adventure. 375 

mitted them to pass without making known his condition, very correctly 
supposing that his crippled legs would only induce them to tomahawk 
him upon the spot, in order to avoid the trouble of carrying him to their 
town. 

He lay close, therefore, until the evening of the second day, when, 
perceiving a raccoon descending a tree near him, he shot it, hoping to 
devise some means of reaching it, when he could kindle a fire and make 
a meal. Scarcely had his gun cracked, however, when he heard a 
human cry, apparently not more than fifty yards off. Supposing it to 
be an Indian, he hastily reloaded his gun, and remained silent, expect- 
ing the approach of an enemy. Presently the same voice was heard 
again, but much nearer. Still Benham made no reply, but cocked his 
gun, and sat ready to fire as soon as an object appeared. A third halloo 
was quickly heard, followed by an exclamation of impatience and dis- 
tress, which convinced Benham that the unknown must be a Kentuckian, 
As soon, therefore, as he heard the expression, " Whoever you are, for 
God's sake, answer me !" he replied with readiness, and the parties were 
soon together. 

Benham, as we have already observed, was shot through both legs. 
The man who now appeared had escaped from the same battle, with 
both arms broken ! Thus each was enabled to supply what the other 
wanted. Benham, having the perfect use of his arms, could load his 
gun and kill game with great readiness, while his friend, having the use 
of his legs, could kick the game to the spot where Benham sat, who was 
thus enabled to cook it. When no wood was near them, his companion 
would rake up brush with his feet, and gradually roll it within reach of 
Benham's hands, who constantly fed his companion and dressed his 
wounds as well as his own — tearing up both of their shirts for that pur- 
pose. They found some difficulty in procuring water at first; but Ben- 
ham, at length, took his own hat, and placing the rim between the teeth 
of his companion, directed him to wade into the Licking up to his neck 
and dip the hat into the water by sinking his own head. The man who 
could walk was thus enabled to bring water, by means of his teeth, 
which Benham could afterward dispose of as was necessary. 

In a few days they had killed all the squirrels and birds within reach, 
and the man with the broken arms was sent out to drive game within 
gunshot of the spot to which Benham was confined. Fortunately, wild 
turkeys were abundant in those woods, and his companion would walk 
around and drive them toward Benham, who seldom failed to kill two 
or three of each flock. In this manner they supported themselves for 
several weeks, until their wounds had healed so as to enable them to 
travel. They then shifted their quarters, and put up a small shed at the 



376 Our Western Border. 

mouth of the Licking, where they encamped until late in November, 
anxiously expecting the arrival of some boat which should convey them 
to the Falls of Ohio. 

On the 27th of November they observed a flat boat moving leisurely 
down the river. Benham instantly hoisted his 'hat upon a stick and hal- 
looed loudly for help. The crew, however, supposing them to be In- 
dians — at least suspecting them of an attempt to decoy them ashore — 
paid no attention to their signals of distress, but instantly put over to 
the opposite side of the river, and, manning every oar, endeavored to 
pass them as rapidly as possible. Benham beheld them pass him with a 
sensation bordering on despair; for the place was much frequented by 
Indians, and the approach of Winter threatened them with destruction 
unless speedily relieved. At length, after the boat had passed him 
nearly half a mile, he saw a canoe put off from its stern, and cautiously 
approach the Kentucky shore, evidently reconnoitering them with great 
suspicion. 

He called loudly upon them for assistance, mentioned his name, and 
made known his condition. After a long parley, and many evidences 
of reluctance on the part of the crew, the canoe at length touched the 
shore, and Benham and his friend were taken on board. Their appearance 
excited much suspicion. They were almost entirely naked, and their 
faces were garnished with six weeks' growth of beard. The one was 
barely able to hobble on crutches, and the other could manage to feed 
himself with one of his hands. They were instantly taken to Louis- 
ville, where their clothes (which had been carried off in the boat which 
deserted them) were restored to them, and after a few weeks' confine- 
ment, both were perfectly restored. 

Benham afterward served in the northwest throughout the whole of 
the Indian war, accompanied the expeditions of Harmar and Wilkin- 
son, shared in the disaster of St. Clair, and afterward in the triumph of 
Wayne. Upon the return of peace, he bought the land upon which 
Rodgers had been defeated, and ended his days in tranquillity, amid 
the scenes which had witnessed his sufferings. 



McConnel's Capture and Signal Revenge. 377 



McCONNEL'S CAPTURE AND SIGNAL REVENGE. 

Early in the Spring' of 1780, according to Rev. McClung, Mr. 
Alexander McConnel, of Lexington, Ky., went into the woods on 
foot, to hunt deer. He soon killed a large buck, and returned home 
for a horse, in order to bring it in. During his absence, a party of 
five Indians, on one of their usual skulking expeditions, accidentally 
stumbled on the body of the deer, and perceiving that it had been re- 
cently killed, they naturally supposed that the hunter would speedily 
return to secure the flesh. Three of them, therefore, took their sta- 
tions within close rifle shot of the deer, while the other two followed 
the trail of the hunter, and waylaid the path by which he was expected 
to return. McConnel, expecting no danger, rode carelessly along the 
path which the two scouts were watching, until he had come within 
view of the deer, when he was fired upon by the whole party, and his 
horse killed. While laboring to extricate himself from the dying 
animal, he was seized by his enemies, instantly overpowered and borne 
off as a prisoner. 

His captors, however, seemed to be a merry, good-natured set of 
fellows, and permitted him to accompany them unbound ; and, what 
was rather extraordinary, allowed him to retain his gun and hunting 
accoutrements. He accompanied them with great apparent cheerful- 
ness through the day, and displayed his dexterity in shooting deer for 
the use of the company, until they began to regard him with great par- 
tiality. Having traveled with them in this manner for several days, 
they at length reached the banks of the Ohio river. Heretofore, the 
Indians had taken the precaution to bind him at night, although not 
very securely ; but on that evening he remonstrated with them on the 
subject, and complained so strongly of the pain which the cords gave 
him, that they merely wrapped the buffalo tug loosely around his wrists, 
and having tied it in an easy knot, and attached the extremities of the 
rope to their own bodies, in order to prevent his moving without 
awakening them, they very composedly went to sleep, leaving the pris- 
oner to follow their example or not, as he pleased. 

McConnel determined to effect his escape that night, if possible, as 
on the following night they would cross the river, which would render 
it much more difficult. He, therefore, lay quietly until near midnight, 
anxiously ruminating upon the best means of effecting his object. Ac- 
cidentally casting his eyes in the direction of his feet, they fell upon the 
glittering blade of a knife, which had escaped its sheath, and was now 



378 Our Western Border. 

lying near the feet of one of the Indians. To reach it with his hands 
without disturbing the two Indians to whom he was fastened, was im- 
possible, and it was very hazardous to attempt to draw it up with his 
feet. This, however, he attempted. With much difficulty he grasped 
the blade between his toes, and, after repeated and long-continued 
efforts, succeeded at length in bringing it within reach of his hands. 

To cut his cords was then but the work of a moment, and gradually 
and silently extricating his person from the arms of the Indians, he 
walked to the fire and sat down. He saw that his work was but half 
done ; that if he should attempt to return home, without destroying his 
enemies, he would assuredly be pursued and probably overtaken, when 
his fate would be certain. On the other hand, it seemed almost impos- 
sible for a single man to succeed in a conflict with five Indians, even 
although unarmed and asleep. He could not hope to deal a blow with 
his knife so silently and fatally, as to destroy each one of his enemies in 
turn, without awakening the rest. Their slumbers were proverbially 
light and restless ; and if he failed with a single one, he must • instantly 
be overpowered by the survivors. The knife, therefore, was out of the 
question. 

After anxious reflection for a few minutes, he formed his plan. The 
guns of the Indians were stacked near the fire ; their knives and toma- 
hawks were in sheaths by their sides. The latter he dared not touch for 
fear of awakening their owners ; but the former he carefully removed, 
with the exception of two, and hid them in the woods, where he knew 
the Indians would not readily find them. He then returned to the spot 
where the Indians were still* sleeping, perfectly ignorant of the fate pre- 
paring for them, and taking a gun in each hand, he rested the muzzles 
upon a log within six feet of his victims, and having taken deliberate 
aim at the head of one and the heart of another, he pulled both triggers 
at the same moment. 

Both shots were fatal. At the report of their guns the others sprang 
to their feet, and stared wildly around them. McConnel, who had run 
instantly to the spot where the other rifles were hid, hastily seized one 
of them and fired at two of his enemies, who happened to stand in a 
line with each other. The nearest fell dead, being shot through the 
centre of the body; the second fell also, bellowing loudly, but quickly 
recovering, limped off into the woods as fast as possible. The fifth, and 
only one who remained unhurt, darted off like a deer, with a yell which 
announced equal terror- and astonishment. McConnel, not wishing to 
fight any more such battles, selected his own rifle from the stack, and 
made the best of his way to Lexington, where he arrived safely within 
two days. 



An Adventure of the Three Brothers McAfee. 379 

Shortly afterward, Mrs. Dunlap, of Fayette, who had been several 
months a prisoner amongst the Indians on Mad river, made her escape, 
and returned to Lexington. She reported that the survivor returned to 
his tribe with a lamentable tale. He related that they had taken a fine 
young hunter near Lexington, and had brought him safely as far as the 
Ohio ; that while encamped upon the bank of the river, a large party of 
white men had fallen upon them in the- night, and killed all his com- 
panions, together with the poor, defenceless prisoner, who lay bound 
hand and foot, unable either to escape or resist ! 



AN ADVENTURE OF THE THREE BROTHERS McAFEE. 

Early in May, 1781, McAfee's station, in the neighborhood of Har- 
rodsburg, was alarmed. On the morning of the 9th, Samuel 
McAfee, accompanied by another man, left the fort in order to visit a 
small plantation in the neighborhood, and at the distance of three hun- 
dred yards from the gate, they were fired upon by a party of Indians 
in ambush. The man who accompanied him instantly fell, and McAfee 
attempted to regain the fort. While running rapidly for that purpose, 
he found himself suddenly intercepted by an Indian, who, springing out 
of the canebrake, planted himself directly in his path. There was no 
time for compliments. Each glared upon the other for an instant in 
silence, and both raising their guns at the same moment, pulled the 
triggers together. The Indian's rifle snapped, while McAfee's ball 
passed directly through his brain. Having no time to reload his gun, 
he sprang over the body of his antagonist, and continued his flight to 
the fort. 

When within one hundred yards of the gate he was met by his two 
brothers, Robert and James, who, at the report of the guns, had hur- 
ried out to the assistance of their brother. Samuel hastily informed 
them of their danger, and exhorted them instantly to return. James 
readily complied, but Robert, deaf to all remonstrances, declared that 
he must have a view of the dead Indian. He ran on for that purpose, 
and having regaled himself with that spectacle, was hastily returning by 
the same path, when he saw five or six Indians between him and the 
fort, evidently bent upon taking him alive. All his activity and pres- 
ence of mind were now put in requisition. He ran rapidly from tree to 
tree, endeavoring to turn their flank and reach one of the gates, and 



380 Our Western Border. 

after a variety of turns and doublings in the thick wood, he found him- 
self pressed by only one Indian. McAfee, hastily throwing himself be- 
hind a fence, turned upon his pursuer, and compelled him to take shelter 
behind a tree. 

Both stood still for a moment, McAfee having his gun cocked, and 
the sight fixed upon the tree, at the spot where he supposed the Indian 
would thrust out his head in order to have a view of his antagonist. 
After waiting a few seconds he was gratified. The Indian slowly and 
cautiously exposed a part of his head, and began to elevate his rifle. 
As soon as a sufficient mark presented itself McAfee fired, and the In- 
dian fell. While turning, in order to continue his flight, he was fired 
on by a party of six, which compelled him again to tree. But scarcely 
had he done so, when, from the opposite quarter, he received the fire of 
three more enemies, which made the bark fly around him and knocked 
up the dust about his feet. Thinking his post rather too hot for safety, 
he neglected all shelter and ran directly for the fort, which, in defiance 
of all opposition, he reached in safety, to the inexpressible joy of his 
brothers, who had despaired of his return. 

The Indians now opened a heavy fire upon the fort, in their usual 
manner ; but finding every effort useless, they hastily decamped, with- 
out any loss beyond the two who had fallen by the hands of the 
brothers, and without having inflicted any upon the garrison. Within 
half an hour, Major McGary brought up a party from Harrodsburg at 
full gallop, and, uniting with the garrison, pursued the enemy with all 
possible activity. They soon overtook them, and a sharp action en- 
sued. The Indians were routed in a few minutes, with the loss of six 
warriors left dead upon the ground, and many others wounded, who, 
as usual, were borne off. The pursuit was continued for several miles, 
but from the thickness of the woods and the extreme activity and ad- 
dress of the enemy, was not very effectual. McGary lost one man dead 
upon the spot and another mortally wounded. 



Bryant's and Hogan's Parties Attacked by Savages. 381 



BRYANT'S AND HOGAN'S PARTIES ATTACKED BY SAVAGES. 

About the same time Bryant's station was much harassed by small 
parties of the enemy. This, as we have already remarked, was a fron- 
tier post, and generally received the brunt of Indian hostility. It had 
been settled in 1779 by four brothers from North Carolina, one of 
whom, William, had married a sister of Colonel Daniel Boone. The 
Indians were constantly lurking in the neighborhood, waylaying the 
paths, stealing their horses and butchering their cattle. It at length 
became necessary to hunt in parties of twenty or thirty men, so as to 
be able to meet and repel those attacks, which were every day becom- 
ing more bold and frequent. 

One afternoon, about the 20th of May, William Bryant, accompanied 
by twenty men, left the fort on a hunting expedition down the Elkhorn 
Creek. They moved with caution, until they had passed all the points 
where ambuscades had generally been formed, when, seeing no enemy, 
they became more bold, and determined, in order to sweep a large ex- 
tent of country, to divide their company into two parties. One of them, 
conducted by Bryant in person, was to descend the Elkhorn on its 
southern bank, flanking out largely, and occupying as much ground as 
possible. The other, under the orders of James Hogan, a young farmer 
in good circumstances, was to move down in a parallel line upon the 
north bank. The two parties were to meet at night, and encamp to- 
gether at the mouth of Cane Run. 

Each punctually performed the first part of their plans. Hogan, 
however, had traveled but a few hundred yards, when he heard a loud 
voice behind him exclaim, in very good English, " Stop, boys !" 
Hastily looking back, they saw several Indians, on foot, pursuing them 
as rapidly as possible. Without halting to count numbers, the party 
put spurs to their horses and dashed through the woods at full speed, 
the Indians keeping close behind them, and at times gaining upon them. 
There was a led horse in company, which had been brought with them 
for the purpose of packing game. This was instantly abandoned, and 
fell into the hands of the Indians. Several of them lost their hats in 
the eagerness of flight ; but quickly getting into the open woods, they 
left their pursuers so far behind that they had leisure to breathe and in- 
quire of each other whether it was worth while to kill their horses be- 
fore they had ascertained the number of the enemy. 



382 Our Western Border. 

They quickly determined to cross the creek, and await the approach 
of the Indians. If they found them superior to their own and Bryant's 
party united, they would immediately return to the fort ; as, by con- 
tinuing their march to the mouth of Cane Run, they would bring a 
superior enemy upon their friends, and endanger the lives of the whole 
party. They accordingly crossed the creek, dismounted and awaited 
the approach of the enemy. By this time it had become dark. The 
Indians were distinctly heard approaching the creek upon the opposite 
side, and, after a short halt, a solitary warrior descended the bank, and 
began to wade through the stream. 

Hogan waited until he had emerged from the gloom of the trees which 
grew upon the bank, and as soon as he had reached the middle of the 
stream, where the light was more distinct, he took deliberate aim and 
fired. A great splashing in the water was heard, but presently all be- 
came quiet. The pursuit was discontinued, and the party, remounting 
their horses, returned home. Anxious, however, to apprise Bryant's 
party of their danger, they left the fort before daylight on the ensuing 
morning, and rode rapidly down the creek, in the direction of the 
mouth of Cane. When within a few hundred yards of the spot where 
they supposed the encampment to be, they heard the report of many 
guns in quck succession. Supposing that Bryant had fallen in with a 
herd of buffalo, they quickened their march, in order to take part in 
the sport. 

The morning was foggy, and the smoke of the guns lay so heavily 
upon the ground that they could see nothing until they had approached 
within twenty yards of the creek, when they suddenly found themselves 
within pistol shot of a party of Indians, very composedly seated upon 
their packs and preparing their pipes. Both parties were much 
startled, but quickly recovering, they sheltered themselves, as usual, and 
the action opened with great vivacity. The Indians maintained their 
ground for half an hour with some firmness, but being hard pressed in 
front and turned in flank, they at length gave way, and, being closely 
pursued, were ultimately routed with considerable loss, which, how- 
ever, could not be distinctly ascertained. Of Hogan's party, one man 
was killed on the spot, and three others wounded, none mortally. 

It happened that Bryant's company had encamped at the mouth of 
Cane, as had been agreed upon, and were unable to account for Hogan's 
absence. About daylight they had heard a bell at a distance, which 
they immediately recognized as the one belonging to the led horse 
which had accompanied Hogan's party, and which, as we have seen, 
had been abandoned to the enemy the evening before. Supposing 
their friends to be bewildered in the fog and unable to find their camp, 



A Schoolmaster Attacked by a Wild Cat. 383 

Bryant, accompanied by Grant, one of his men, mounted a horse and 
rode to the spot where the bell was still ringing. They quickly fell 
into an ambuscade, and were fired upon. Bryant was mortally, and 
Grant severely, wounded, the first being shot through the hip and both 
knees, the latter through the back. 

Being both able to keep the saddle, however, they set spurs to their 
horses, and arrived at the station shortly after breakfast. The Indians, 
in the meantime, had fallen upon the encampment and instantly dis- 
persed it; and, while preparing to regale themselves after their victory, 
were suddenly attacked, as we have seen, by Hogan. The timidity of 
Hogan's party, at the first appearance of the Indians, was the cause of 
the death of Bryant. The same men who fled so hastily in the evening 
were able the next morning, by a little firmness, to vanquish the same 
party of Indians. Had they stood at first, an equal success would 
probably have attended them, and the life of their leader would have 
been preserved. 



A SCHOOLMASTER ATTACKED BY A WILD CAT. 

We have now to notice an adventure of a different kind, and which, 
from its singularity, is entitled to a place in our pages. In 1783 Lex- 
ington was only a cluster of cabins, one of which was used as a school 
house. One morning in May, McKinney, the teacher, was sitting alone 
at his desk, busily engaged in writing, when, hearing a slight noise at 
the door, he turned his head and beheld — what do you suppose, reader? 
A tall Indian in his war paint, brandishing his tomahawk or handling 
his knife? No! an enormous cat, with her forefeet upon the step of the 
door, her tail curled over her back, her bristles erect, and her eyes 
glancing rapidly through the room as if in search of game. 

McKinney 's position at first completely concealed him, but a slight 
and involuntary motion of his chair, at sight of this shaggy inhabitant 
of the forest, attracted puss's attention, and their eyes met. McKinney, 
having heard much of the power of "the human face divine" in quell- 
ing the audacity of wild animals, attempted to disconcert the intruder 
by a frown. But puss was not to be bullied. Her eyes flashed fire, her 
tail waved angrily, and she began to gnash her teeth, evidently bent 
upon serious hostility. Seeing his danger, McKinney hastily arose and 
attempted to snatch a cylindrical rule from a table which stood within 
reach, but the cat was too quick for him. 



384 Our Western Border. 

Darting upon him with the proverbial activity of her tribe, she fast- 
ened upon his side with her teeth, and began to rend and tear with her 
claws like a fury. McKinney's clothes were, in an instant, torn from 
his side and his flesh dreadfully mangled by the enraged animal, whose 
strength and ferocity filled him with astonishment. He in vain attempted 
to disengage her from his side. Her long, sharp teeth were fastened 
between his ribs, and his efforts served but to enrage her the more. 
Seeing his blood flow very copiously from the numerous wounds in his 
side, he became seriously alarmed, and not knowing what else to do, he 
threw himself upon the edge of the table, and pressed her against the 
sharp corner with the whole weight of his body. 

The cat now began to utter the most wild and discordant cries, and 
McKinney at the same time lifting up his voice in concert, the two 
together sent forth notes so doleful as to alarm the whole town. Wo- 
men, who are always the first in hearing or spreading news, were now 
the first to come to McKinney's assistance. But so strange and un- 
earthly was the harmony within the school house, that they hesitated 
long before they ventured to enter. At length the boldest of them 
rushed in, and seeing McKinney bending over the corner of the table, 
and writhing his body as if in great pain, she at first supposed that he 
was laboring under a severe fit of the colic; but quickly perceiving the 
cat, which was now in the agonies of death, she screamed out, "Why, 
good heaven! Mr. McKinney, what is the matter?" 

" I have caught a cat, madam !" replied he, gravely turning around, 
while the sweat streamed from his face, under the mingled operation of 
fright and fatigue, and agony. Most of the neighbors had now arrived, 
and attempted to disengage the dead cat from her antagonist ; but so 
firmly were her tusks locked between his ribs, that this was a work of no 
small difficulty. Scarcely had it been effected, when McKinney became 
very sick, and was compelled to go to bed. In a few days, however, 
he had totally recovered, and so late as 1820 was alive, and a resident 
of Bourbon county, Ky., where he was often heard to affirm, that he, 
at any time, had rather fight two Indians than one wild cat. 



David Morgan's Desperate Combat with Two Savages. 385 



DAVID MORGAN'S DESPERATE COMBAT WITH TWO 

SAVAGES. 

About the same time a conflict more unequal, and equally remark- 
able, took place in another part of the country. David Morgan, a 
relation of the celebrated General Daniel Morgan, had settled upon the 
Monongahela during the earlier period of the Revolutionary war, and 
at this time had ventured to occupy a cabin at the distance of several 
miles from any settlement. One morning, having sent his younger 
children out to a field at a considerable distance from the house, he 
became uneasy about them, and repaired to the spot where they were 
working, armed, as usual, with a good rifle. While sitting upon the 
fence, and giving some directions as to their work, he observed two 
Indians upon the other side of the field, gazing earnestly upon the party. 
He instantly called to the children to make their escape, while he should 
attempt to cover their retreat. 

The odds were greatly against him, as, in addition to other circum- 
stances, he was nearly seventy years of age, and, of course, unable to 
contend with his enemies in running. The house was more than a mile 
distant, but the children, having two hundred yards the start, and being 
effectually covered by their father, were soon so far in front that the 
Indians turned their attention entirely to the old man. He ran, for 
several hundred yards, with an activity which astonished himself, but 
perceiving that he would be overtaken long before he could reach his 
home, he fairly turned at bay, and prepared for a strenuous resistance. 
The woods through which they were running were very thin, and 
consisted almost entirely of small trees, behind which it was difficult to 
obtain proper shelter. 

When Morgan adopted the above-mentioned resolution, he had just 
passed a large walnut, which stood like a patriarch among the saplings 
which surrounded it, and it became necessary to run back about ten 
steps in order to regain it. The Indians became startled at the sudden 
advance of the fugitive, and were compelled to halt among a cluster of 
saplings, where they anxiously strove to shelter themselves. This, how- 
ever, was impossible ; and Morgan, who was an excellent marksman, 
saw enough of the person of one of them to justify him in risking a 
shot. His enemy instantly fell, mortally wounded. The other Indian, 
taking advantage of Morgan's empty gun, sprang from his shelter and 
25 



386 Our Western Border. 

advanced rapidly upon him. The old man, having no time to reload 
his gun, was compelled to fly a second time. The Indian gained rapidly 
upon him, and, when within twenty steps, fired, but with so unsteady 
an aim that Morgan was totally unhurt, the ball having passed over his 
shoulder. 

He now again stood at bay, clubbing his rifle for a blow; while the 
Indian, dropping his empty gun, brandished his tomahawk and prepared 
to throw it at his enemy. Morgan struck with the butt of his gun and 
the Indian whirled his tomahawk at one and the same moment. Both 
blows took effect, and both were at once wounded and disarmed. The 
breech of the rifle was broken against the Indian's skull, and the edge of 
the tomahawk was shattered against the barrel of the rifle, having first 
cut off two of the fingers of Morgan's left hand. The Indian then 
attempting to draw his knife, Morgan'grappled him and bore him to the 
ground. A furious struggle ensued, in which the old man's strength 
failed, and the Indian succeeded in turning him. 

Planting his knee on the breast of his enemy, and yelling loudly, as 
is usual with them upon any turn of fortune, he again felt for his knife, 
in order to terminate the struggle at once ; but having lately stolen a wo- 
man's apron and tied it around his waist, his knife was so much con- 
fined that he had great difficulty in finding the handle. Morgan, in the 
meantime, being a regular pugilist, according to the custom of Virginia, 
and perfectly at home in a ground struggle, took advantage of the 
awkwardness of the Indian, and got one of the fingers of his right hand 
between his teeth. The Indian tugged and roared in vain, struggling 
to extricate it. Morgan held him fast, and began to assist him in hunt- 
ing for the knife. Each seized it at the same moment, the Indian by 
the blade and Morgan by the handle, but with a very slight hold. 

The Indian, having the firmest hold, began to draw the knife further 
out of its sheath, when Morgan, suddenly giving his finger a furious 
bite, twitched the knife dexterously through his hand, cutting it 
severely. Both now sprang to their feet, Morgan brandishing his ad- 
versary's knife, and still holding his finger between his teeth. In vain 
the poor Indian struggled to get away, rearing, plunging and bolting, 
like an unbroken colt. The teeth of the white man were like a vise, 
and he at length succeeded in giving him a stab in the side. The In- 
dian received it without falling, the knife having struck his ribs ; but a 
second blow, aimed at the stomach, proved more effectual, and the 
savage fell. Morgan thrust the knife, handle and all, into the cavity 
of the body, directed it upward, and starting to his feet, made the best 
of his way home. 

The neighborhood was quickly alarmed ; and, hurrying to the spot 



Events From Dunmore's War to Moravian Massacre. 387 

where the struggle had taken place, they found the first Indian lying 
where he had fallen, but the second had disappeared. A broad trail of 
blood, however, conducted to a fallen tree-top, within one hundred 
yards of the spot, into which the poor fellow had dragged himself, and 
where he now lay, bleeding but still alive. He had plucked the knife 
from his wound, and was endeavoring to dress it with the stolen apron 
— which had cost him his life — when his enemies approached. The 
love of life was still strong within him, however. He greeted them with 
what was intended for an insinuating smile, held out his hand and ex- 
claimed, in broken English, " How de do, broder? how de do? Glad 
to see you ! " But, poor fellow ! the love was all on his side. Their 
brotherhood extended only to tomahawking, scalping and skinning him, 
all of which operations were performed within a few minutes after the 
meeting. To such an extent had mutual injury inflamed both parties. 



EVENTS FROM DUNMORE'S WAR TO MORAVIAN MASSACRE. 

In presenting biographical sketches of the leading early pioneers ot 
the West, we were obliged to depart somewhat from the chronological 
sequence of events. We had proceeded as far as the treaty made by 
Lord Dunmore with the Ohio Indians in 1774. On April 19th of the 
next year (1775) was fought the opening battle of the American Revo- 
lution. This august event created a mighty change everywhere. Dur- 
ing most of the year, however, there was peace on the western 
border, save occasional acts of hostility on the part of the Shawnees 
and other hostile tribes, instigated no doubt by British agents. The 
frontiers were in a great state of anxiety and apprehension regarding a 
close alliance between England and the confederated western tribes. 

Sir William Johnson, the British Superintendent of Indian Affairs, 
had, as we have shown, a most potent influence among the redmen of 
the whole country. He, more than any other, could hold them in 
check or incite them to an open rupture. To cope with these tribes 
alone would be comparatively an easy matter, but to deal with them 
when constantly goaded on and assisted by British wealth and power, 
and more especially when the whole fighting strength of the country 
was drawn eastward to contend with the large and well-drilled armies of 
Britain, was quite a different matter. 



388 Our Western Border. 

Sir William was now dead, it is true, but it was not long before his 
successors — his son, sons-in-law and the powerful Mohawk Chief, Brant, 
arrayed themselves openly against the colonies. Their bad influence 
with the Six Nations was greatly dreaded by Washington and the Con- 
tinental leaders, and an early effort was made to have the New York 
nations remain neutral. This was no easy task, for the tory leaders 
were already busy among them, and at last the Johnsons, gathering a 
force of five hundred tories and savages, moved westward to Oswego 
and held a council, the result of which was that four out of the six na- 
tions composing the Iroquois, allied themselves openly or secretly .with 
the British. Through emissaries dispatched thence to the western 
tribes, they, too, were soon divided in council, and — already angered by 
the constant invasion of their hunting grounds by the pioneers, and by 
the constant robbery of the lands under their feet through artful and 
despoiling treaties — their straggling scalping parties so filled the woods 
that no family was safe outside a fort. Had a Pontiac then been alive 
to merge and weld them into one hostile and cosentient mass ; to in- 
spire and lead them on to action, it would have gone hard, indeed, with 
the whole western frontier. 

To counteract the malevolent operations of the British and the Mo- 
hawk Valley tories, Congress, in July, formed three Indian Depart- 
ments — a northern one for the Six Nations and those tribes north and 
east of them; a middle one for the western tribes, and a southern one 
for the Cherokees, Catawbas, and all tribes south of Kentucky. The 
commissioners of these several departments were to keep close watch 
and ward over their respective tribes, as well as upon the King's super- 
intendents and agents among them. They were to endeavor to hold the 
natives quiet and neutral in the Revolutionary contest. Councils were 
also suggested, and " talks" prepared to send to the different tribes to 
explain the nature of the struggle between England and America. 

The first conference was held at Albany in August, at which, how- 
ever, the Six Nations were not fully represented, and some even of those 
who were present immediately afterwards went over to the British. The 
second conference was held in October at Fort Pitt, and was well attended 
by delegates from the western tribes, who were much divided in opinion 
among themselves. 



The Delaware Chiefs. Captains Pipe and White Eyes. 389 



THE DELAWARE CHIEFS, CAPTAINS PIPE AND WHITE 

EYES. 

The commissioners having first informed the assembled chiefs of the 
nature of the dispute between the mother country and America, illus- 
trated it in the following manner: " Suppose a father had a little son 
whom he loved and indulged wfiile young, but, growing up to be a 
youth, began to think of having some help from him; and, making up 
a small pack, he bid him carry it for him. The boy cheerfully takes 
this pack up, following his father with it. The father, finding the boy 
willing and obedient, continues in this way, and as the boy grows 
stronger, so the father makes the pack bigger and heavier; yet, as long 
as the boy is able to carry the pack, he does so without grumbling. At 
length, however, the boy having arrived at manhood, and while the 
father is making up a pack for him, in comes a person of an evil dispo- 
sition, and learning who was to be the carrier of the pack, advises the 
father to make it heavier, for surely the son is able to carry a larger 
pack. The father, listening rather to the bad adviser than consulting 
his own judgment and his feelings of tenderness, follows the bad advice 
of the hard-hearted adviser, and makes up a very heavy load for his son 
to carry. 

" The son, now grown up, and examining the weight of the load he 
is to carry, addresses the parent in these words: ' Dear father, this pack 
is too heavy for me to carry ; do, pray, lighten it ! I am willing to do 
what I can, but am unable to carry this load.' The father's heart 
having become hardened, and the bad adviser urging him to whip him 
if he disobey and refuse to carry the pack, now arrogantly demands 
his son to take up his pack and move off, or he will whip him, and 
already takes up the stick to beat him. 'So,' says the son, ' am I to 
be served thus for not doing what I am unable to do ? Well, if en- 
treaties are all nothing with you, father, and the matter is to be decided 
by blows, whether I am able or not to carry this pack, so heavy, then I 
have no other chance left me but that of resisting your unreasonable 
demand by strength, and thus, by striking each other, learn who is the 
strongest.' " 

The chiefs were furthermore warned not to mix in this family quarrel 
on penalty of being considered parties to it, but to "sit still" until the 
contest should be over, and not take up the hatchet for either side ; but 
if they should move in this quarrel, and the Americans should prove 
victorious, then they would surely be terribly punished. 



390 Our Western Border. 

At this time a delegation of the Senecas, the most numerous as well 
as the most warlike of the Six Nations, were at Pittsburgh, to learn 
what part the western Indians, and more especially the Delawares, 
would take during the contest. Hearing Captain White Eyes, a mighty 
Chief of the Delawares, declaring openly in favor of the Americans and 
their cause, they were very much chagrined and incensed. They sharp- 
ly and haughtily reminded him that the Delawares had been conquered 
by the Six Nations ; were nothing but women, and wore petticoats. 
This was indeed true. The Delawares had long been subject to the Iro- 
quois, and had been so chased about and driven from pillar to post by 
their conquerors, that, for the sake of peace and independence, they 
had crossed the mountains and settled in the Ohio country. For 
many years back they had been thriving and growing more powerful 
and independent, and now it was high time to assert themselves and 
hurl back the Iroquois' insults with defiance. 

White Eyes therefore arose, and with an air of disdain, replied : "I 
well know that the Six Nations esteem the Delawares as a conquered 
people and their inferiors. You say that you once conquered us ; that 
you cut off our legs; put petticoats upon us; gave us a hoe and a 
corn-pounder, saying : * Now, women, your business henceforward 
shall be to plant and hoe corn and pound the same for us, men and 
warriors ! ' Look at my legs ! If, as you say, they were cut off, they 
have grown again to their proper size ; the petticoat I have thrown away 
and have put on again my own dress ; the corn-hoe and pounder I 
have exchanged for these firearms, and I declare here and now, that 1 
am a man, and," waving his hand in the direction of the Allegheny 
river, he continued proudly, " all the country on the other side of that 
river is mine ! " 

No address so bold or daring had ever before been delivered by a 
Delaware chief to the Six Nations, and it was afterwards made the occa- 
sion for a division of the nation. There were many Delawares who 
were greatly alarmed at the haughty and arrogant language of their 
chief to the Six Nations, to whom they had been so long subject, and of 
whose power and resentment they stood in mortal dread. So the 
Monseys, under the lead of their chief, Newalike, withdrew from the 
Turtle Tribe and united themselves to the Wolf Tribe of Delawares, 
under Captain Pipe. They then retired to a new settlement near Lake 
Erie, and took good care to let the Six Nations know that they did not 
at all approve of what Captain White Eyes had said. 

This Captain Pipe was a very artful, designing man, and a chief of 
considerable ability and influence. He had for some time plotted for a 
division of his nation. His ambitious spirit would brook no rival, and 



The Delaware Chiefs, Captains Pipe and White Eyes. 391 

while White Eyes leaned to the Americans, Pipe's intriguing heart be- 
longed wholly to the British and to the Indian Confederacy which 
affiliated with them. The affairs of the Indians at this juncture were 
so mixed up with those of the Moravian or Christian Delawares, settled 
at that time on the Muskingum, that it is very hard to separate them. 
We shall, however, treat of the Muskingum settlements further on. 
Netawatwees, the head chief of the Delawares, had always been the 
warm friend of the Moravians; had invited them to settle near him; 
had extended to them every aid and courtesy, and was at one time, 
like King Agrippa of old, almost " persuaded to be a Christian" him- 
self. 

The efforts of this wise and venerable chief were now devoted to pre- 
serving peace. In this noble aim, he was ably seconded by Killbuck 
and Big Cat. But his best endeavors were ever frustrated by the rest- 
less Captain Pipe, who was warlike and vengeful, ever brooding over 
old resentments. This redskin Mephistopheles now kept aloof from the 
council of the nation, and busily spread the report that White Eyes had 
made secret engagements with the Americans with a view to the en- 
slavement of his own people. White Eyes minded him not, but even 
headed a deputation to the Wyandots in the interest of peace; but they 
refused his peace belts, and a British officer, who was there, even 
snatched them from his hands, cut them to pieces and then insultingly 
told the chief to " begone if he set any value on his head." 

Shortly after an embassy of twenty warriors arrived among the still 
steadfast Delawares, and demanded their assistance, stating that all the 
western tribes had confederated as one man for the war, and that the 
Turtle Tribe of Delawares alone stood out for an inglorious, ignomini- 
ous peace. Meanwhile every variety of artful report was industriously 
circulated, in order to pervert the minds of the young and ardent Dela- 
wares, and to compel them, as it were, to take the war path. Unfor- 
tunately, just previous to this crisis, Netawatwees died at Pittsburgh, 
declaring, as his last will, that the Gospel should be preached to the In- 
dians without any let or hindrance. This resolve was not only en- 
dorsed but steadfastly carried out by White Eyes, and on the Moravians 
positively declaring that they would forsake the country if the Dela- 
wares should go to war, all their chiefs, in solemn conclave assembled, 
resolved to keep the peace and maintain a strict neutrality at any and 
at every hazard. 

Early in 1778 the hostile savages began again to commit depreda- 
tions against the border, stealing horses, burning houses, plundering, 
murdering and destroying. On returning from these bloody and mer- 
ciless marauds, they would frequently pass with their prisoners and 



392 Our Western Border. 

SGalps through the peaceable Indian settlements, in order to exasperate 
the front iermen, and make them believe them the guilty aggressors. 



Simon Girty, Elliott and McKee Desert from Fort Pitt. 

Truly a troubled and tempestuous time had these friendly Indians, 
and to cap the climax of their miseries, there now arrived at the Dela- 
ware town Goschochking, (now Coshocton, Ohio,) a squad of twelve base 
deserters from Fort Pitt, led on by those notorious tories, Simon Girty, 
Matthew Elliott and Alexander McKee — the last, Sir William Johnson's 
old deputy among the Indians. " It was enough," dolefully writes 
Hecke welder, " to break the hearts of the missionaries." This tory 
defection, just at this alarming juncture, caused quite as much terror 
and anxiety among the Delawares as it did among the whites them- 
selves. The mouths of these malevolent renegades were filled with all 
manner of evil and lying. They impudently asserted that Washington 
had been killed; that his armies were cut to pieces by the British; that 
Congress had been dispersed ; that the whole East was in possession of 
the enemy, and that the force at Fort Pitt had nothing left for it to do 
but to possess the Indian lands, killing men, women and children. 

The effect of these false and malicious stories, just at a time when 
Captain Pipe had been so long working to win over the Delaware tribe 
to take open sides with the British and to make a combined maraud 
against the border, was prodigious. Captains White Eyes, Killbuck and 
Big Cat, however, stood firm, and did all they could to allay the excite- 
ment. A grand council of the nation was called to discuss Pipe's ear- 
nest advice that arms should be immediately taken up against the Amer- 
icans. White Eyes, the noble old chief, made a most spirited and vehe- 
ment address to all the hot-blooded young warriors; denounced Girty 
and his confreres as liars, and begged just for ten days, and then, if no 
news came to disprove what had been told them by these deserters, he 
would not only favor immediate hostilities, but he would himself lead 
them on: "Not like the bear hunter," he sarcastically concluded, "who 
sets the dog on the animal to be beaten about with his paws, while he 
keeps at a safe distance. No, he would lead them on in person; place 
himself in the front, and be the first to fall." 

The ten days were at length decreed. It was a most anxious and 
critical time. As day after day passed without further news from Fort 
Pitt, those Indians who desired peace wavered, and, finally, were so 
despondent and hopeless that they no longer made opposition to Pipe 
and his war tribe ; but the fiery young zealots of both tribes commenced 
Bounding the war drum, shaving their heads, laying on the scalp plume, 



Girty, Elliott and McKee Desert from Fort Pitt. 393 

and otherwise preparing to set off on a bloody raid against the white 
settlements. 

But God did not so will it. Jus^ in the very nick of time, the young 
Moravian, John Heckewelder, had arrived from the East at Fort Pitt, 
and, hearing of the late defection, set off without one instant's delay to 
the Moravian towns. Here he found everything in the direst confusion. 
The last day of the ten was at hand, and the whole fighting strength of 
the Delawares, together with a large force of Wyandots from Sandusky, 
were to start off early next morning on the war path. 

Not one moment to be lost ! Spent and jaded as he was, Heckewel- 
der soon mounted a fresh horse, and rode thirty miles farther to Gosch- 
ochking, the chief Delaware town, which he found in great commotion, 
all the braves being decked out for war. His reception was discour- 
aging. Even Captain White Eyes and the other chiefs who had always 
befriended the Moravians, drew back in the coldest and most haughty 
manner when the hand was extended. At length the great chief, White 
Eyes, boldly stepped forward and said that if what Girty and his party 
asserted were so, the Delawares no longer had a friend among the Amer- 
icans, and wanted to know the exact truth. He then asked: "Is Wash- 
ington killed? Are the American armies cut to pieces? Is there no 
longer a Congress? and are the few thousands who escaped the British 
armies, embodying themselves at Fort Pitt to take the Indian's country, 
slaughtering even our women and children?" 

Heckewelder then stood up, his honest face and truthful manner 
carrying conviction with every word, and denounced all Girty's stories 
as utter fabrications. He asserted, on the contrary, Jhat Burgoyne's 
whole army had just surrendered, and that he (Heckewelder) was the 
bearer of the most friendly messages from General Hand and Colonel 
Gibson, of Fort Pitt, advising them to continue neutral. 

In proof of his statement, Heckewelder put a newspaper in White 
Eye's hands, containing the account of the battle of Saratoga and the 
surrender of Burgoyne, which the glad old chief, now completely re- 
assured, held up before his people, saying : " See, my friends and rel- 
atives ! this document containeth great events — not the song of a bird, 
but the truth ! " Then, stepping up to Heckewelder, he joyfully said : , 
"You are welcome with us, brother." 

Thus, for the time, did all Pipe's machinations and ambitious schemes 
come to naught. His mortified spies slunk back to their own Wolf 
tribe, while Captain White Eyes, knowing that Girty, Elliott and Mc- 
Kee had gone on to the Shawnee towns on the Scioto with the same 
fabrications, immediately dispatched fleet runners thither with the fol- 
lowing message: "Grandchildren ! Ye Shawneese ! Some days ago 



394 Our Western Border, 

a flock of birds, that had come on from the East, lit at Goschochking, 
imposing a song of theirs upon us, which song had nigh proved our 
ruin. Should these birds, which, on leaving us, took their flight to- 
wards Scioto, endeavor to impose a song on you likewise, do not listen 
to them, for they lie." 



Death of Captain White Eyes — A Horrid Massacre. 

This, as stated, took place in the Spring of '78, and ever after, this 
precious trio of tories — Girty, Elliott and McKee — were a full match, in 
every species of hostile attack and savage depredation, with that other 
trio of the Mohawk Valley — Johnson, Butler and Brant. 

Shortly after the desertion, Captain White Eyes returned to Fort Pitt 
to be nearer Colonel George Morgan, the Indian agent, and with his 
aid to prevent his nation from being dragged into war. He was also, 
seeing the flourishing condition of the Moravian settlements on the 
Muskingum, exceedingly anxious to have his tribe embrace Christianity, 
but God did not so will it, for while accompanying General Mcintosh 
to the Tuscarawas, where Fort Laurens was to be built for the protec- 
tion of the peaceable Indians, he was seized with the small-pox and 
died, greatly lamented by both reds and whites. He was a wise, sensi- 
ble and peaceable chief, always friendly to Christianity and the cause of 
the colonies. Pipe, however, heard of this removal of his rival with 
ill-concealed joy, and promptly remarked, in a council of chiefs, that 
" the Great Spirit had put him out of the way that the nation might 
be saved." White Eyes' death was, according to Indian custom, at 
once made known to all the nations around, and even the distant Chero- 
kees sent to Goschochking a deputation of fourteen chiefs to condole 
with the mourning Delawares. White Eyes' successor being very young 
in years, three other chiefs, Killbuck, Big Cat and Tetepachksi, officia- 
ted till he should become of age • and when, afterwards, Pipe and the 
war party became supreme, retired with him to Smoky Island, across the 
river from Fort Pitt, for protection. It will be seen shortly, how foully 
this young chief was dealt with. 

The most remarkable event that happened in 1779, was the wonder- 
ful expedition of George Rogers Clark — called the Hannibal of the 
West — against the British force in the northwest, and his capture of the 
posts of Kaskaskia and Vincennes. But those events were of such a 
singular character and were attended with so many romantic features 
and deeds of daring, that we shall give them a special and separate 
mention. 



A Horrid Massacre. 395 

During three years, '79, '80 and '81, Indian cruelties and devasta- 
tions in the West continued with more or less constancy and severity. 
The borders were greatly drained of their fighting strength to supply 
the eastern armies, then waging a war to the death with all the power of 
Great Britain. The West was necessarily left to maintain itself as best 
it could against the whole confederacy of western tribes, backed by 
English hate and wealth ; inspired from British forts and more especially 
from Detroit, and officered by British or tory leaders. 

In the Spring of '82, however, occurred a dread and lamentable 
event, which not only rests as an indelible stain upon the fair fame of the 
western border, but which added for a long time a rancorous bitterness 
to all the subsequent savage warfare. We allude, of course, to the das- 
tardly and execrable massacre of the Moravian Indians on the Mus- 
kingum. For some time the whole frontier had been in a very excited 
and discontented state, and that Spring savage barbarities had com- 
menced earlier than usual. On account of the constant harassment 
by Indians, the failure of Clark's and Gibson's expeditions, and the al- 
most total annihilation of Colonel Archibald Lochry's command of over 
one hundred of the very bravest and foremost riflemen of Westmore- 
land county, there existed universal gloom and dismay. Add to this 
the long and angry controversy which had prevailed about the boun- 
dary between Virginia and Pennsylvania, ending in disputed authority, 
vexatious suits, insecure titles, excuses for neglect of military duty, and 
a want of authority by the county lieutenants over the militia for twenty 
miles on either side of the line in dispute, and the terribly demoralized 
state of the West can be fully imagined. 

So restless and disheartened had the settlers become, that very many 
talked of flying back east of the mountains, while a new scheme of 
emigration to the Ohio, championed by an adventurer of the name of 
Jackson, had — wild and dangerous as it was — created quite an excite- 
ment, and had won very many adherents. As there were a large num- 
ber of bitter tories then in the West, it was shrewdly suspected at Fort 
Pitt that so hazardous and foolhardy a project would never have been 
entertained except with the promise of a British protectorate from De- 
troit. They must either have been cut to pieces by the Indians, or have 
had an understanding with the British, who instigated all the border 
marauds of that day. May 25th was appointed for the rendezvous. 

But this was not all, nor the worst. As Doddridge in his Notes, says: 
" It would seem that the long continuance of the Indian war had de- 
based a considerable portion of our population to the savage state. 
Having lost so many relatives by the Indians, and witnessed their 
horrid murders and other depredations upon so extensive a scale, they 






396 Our Western Border. 

became subjects of that indiscriminating thrist for revenge, which is 
such a prominent feature in the savage character." 

We cannot well. present an intelligible statement of what occurred on 
the border in 1782, without giving an account — as brief as is consistent 
with clearness — of the Moravian Missions west of the Alleghenies. The 
earlier history of the Moravians east of the mountains and their deal 
ings with the natives, are replete with interest and a mournful pathos, 
and would fill a volume, but with that branch of the subject we have 
nothing to do. 



Chapter VI. 



GOD'S MIGHTY WORK IN THE WILDERNESS. 

Where late the war whoop's hideous sound 
Alone disturbed the silence round ; 
Where late the godless wigwam stood, 
Deep in the unbounded range of wood ; 
Where lately, armed for deadly strife, 
With tomahawk and scalping knife, 

The Natives strove ; 
Now dove-eyed Peace triumphant reigns, 
And o'er the cultivated plains, 
In converse sweet, dusk maids and swains, 
Contented rove. 

Never, to our thinking, in all the history of Christ's Church, was 
there a missionary enterprise with so touching a story; that was so 
clearly blessed of God in its spiritual results, or that, for some in- 
scrutable Providence, was permitted to be so harrowed and storm-tossed 
as the Moravian Mission among the western Indians. 

The Delawares were a noble, intelligent and virtuous tribe, as com- 
pared with redmen generally, and peculiarly susceptible to Gospel 
teachings. Among them the missionaries worked east of the Alle- 
ghenies for years, converting thousands; forming them into separate 
industrious communities ; teaching all the arts of peaceful civilization, 
and assisting them to live pure, devoted and consistent Christian lives. 

The western explorations of Frederick Post, a very devout man of 
God, satisfied his Church that a most promising field of missionary en- 
terprise invited beyond the Alleghenies. The first decided attempt was 
made on the upper Allegheny, and many were converted ; among 
others. Allemewi, a blind old Delaware chief. Wars and troubles, how- 
ever, soon arose, and it was concluded to accept the invitation of Pan- 
kake and Glickhican, and move further west, where the Delawares were 
more numerous and all favorably inclined. 

Accordingly, in April, 1770, a fleet of sixteen canoes, filled with mis- 
sionaries and their little band of disciples, the firstlings of the Faith, 
descended the Allegheny from Lawunakhannek, to Pittsburgh ; thence 



398 Our Western Border. 

down the Ohio to the Big Beaver ; thence up said river twenty miles, 
where a debarkation was effected and a settlement made. The Indians 
soon flocked in from far and near, and were " astonished at their doc- 
trine." Chiefs and warriors, great and small, wise and simple, were in 
like manner attracted ; but when Glickhican, one of the best, greatest 
and most influential Delaware war chiefs, as also the wife of Allemewi, 
became converts, the excitement increased and widened. 

A beautiful and prosperous village arose, which was called Frieden- 
stadt, or Village of Peace. The land was rich, and the woods filled 
with every variety of game, as were the streams with fish. Churches, 
schools, mills and workshops were erected ; the lands were surrounded 
with good fences, and cultivated with the latest improved implements ; 
horses j cattle, hogs, &c, were multiplied, and, in a word, the "wilder- 
ness blossomed as the rose," and all was peace and happiness. 

But soon the low, depraved, vagabondish " Indian trader," with his 
cheap daubs, gewgaws and abominable whiskey, made his appearance ; 
perverting and demoralizing the faithful, sowing jealousies, and creating 
great trouble generally. In the meantime, persistent invitations had 
been extended to the Moravians by the Great Council of Delawares in 
Ohio, to come further west and settle near them on the Muskingum. 
This invitation was soon after more urgently repeated by the great and 
good Delaware chief, Netawatwees, backed by the Wyandot chiefs, 
who promised all the land they needed and constant protection. 

In '75 this invitation was accepted, and, a large number of disciples 
from east of the mountains having migrated, Friedenstadt was aban- 
doned the next year for the new village of Schoenbrun, (Beautiful 
Spring,) on the Tuscarawas branch of the Muskingum, some going by 
land, and twenty-two large canoes going by water down the Beaver and 
Ohio, and then up the Muskingum nearly two hundred miles. 

It would take many pages even to briefly relate the varied and deeply 
interesting history of the Christian villages located in those years on 
this river. Schoenbrun was followed by Gnadenhutten ; then by Lich- 
tenau, and when, in '79, that village had to be abandoned, because 
lying directly on the great war path between the British Indians and the 
American borders, was followed by Salem. 

These three all grew fat and flourished. Indians crowded in from all 
sides. Even one tribe of Miami Shawnees moved near to be under 
their benign influence. The reports of the love, harmony and abun- 
dance which existed among these three communities of converts spread 
far and near, and exercised a most happy influence. Their fields of 
waving corn could be counted by the hundred acres ; the hills were 
dotted with fine horses and cattle ; while droves of hogs roamed and 



God's Mighty Work in the Wilderness. 399 

fattened in the woods. Chapels, schools, houses and workshops were 
built, and the voice of prayer and praise was alternated with the busy 
hum of industry. On still nights the inhabitants of each village could 
hear the sounds of the church bell from the neighboring village ; rude 
cabins made way for comfortable two-story houses of hewn logs ; travel- 
ing bands of Indians were always treated hospitably and fed with abun- 
dance and variety ; war, and all that led to or made for it, was forever 
forsworn, and every tribe in Ohio saw, heard, understood and won- 
dered. 

Alas I this was too good a state of things to last ! The contrast was 
too marked. Prosperity begets envy, and those bereft of everything 
soon learn to hate those who are blessed with everything. The con- 
jurers and " medicines " of the various tribes saw " an unknown God " 
set up for worship; felt their own power and influence waning, and 
denounced the new religion as making squaws of their chiefs and war- 
riors. They execrated the "praying Indians" for their neutrality; 
made border-scalpers return by their towns so as to draw on them the 
vengeance of the whites ; accused them of constantly conveying news 
to Forts Pitt and Mcintosh, so that all Indian raids aborted. 

In all this they were aided and even surpassed by those three artful 
and desperate tories and renegades, Girty, Elliott and McKee, who were 
constantly, like Saul of Tarsus, "breathing out threatenings and slaugh- 
ter against the disciples of the Lord." They all saw that the Delaware 
nation persisted in maintaining strict neutrality in the war between the 
British and Americans, and made repeated efforts first to sow dissen- 
sions; then break up the Moravian towns; then waylay and kill the mis- 
sionaries, and, all these failing, to make the British at Detroit, and 
Pomoacon, the Huron Half King, remove the " praying Indians " back 
out of the way. 

The missionary Senseman had been attacked near Schoenbrun; Ed- 
wards and Young were shot at while planting potatoes near Gnaden- 
hutten; Heckewelder had been thrice waylaid and assaulted; while 
Zeisberger had been ambushed by a hired gang of eight Mingoes. Just 
as Simon Girty, their leader, leaped into the path before him, shouting, 
"This is the man; now do your work as promised," some Delaware 
hunters providentially appeared and effected a rescue. If any was more 
persistent in his hatred to the Moravians than Girty, it was Elliott, who 
was infinitely more artful and sneaking. Pipe, whose prophetess wife 
had been finally converted to the new doctrines, was quite as bad and 
hateful as either. If Girty and Elliott were the crafty, designing plotters, 
Pipe and the Huron Half King, Pomoacon, were the pliant tools. We 
have already related how Pipe at length succeeded in dividing the Lenni- 



400 Our Western Border. 

Lenape in two, taking with him the Wolf tribe, which was for war, and 
leaving the Turtle tribe, which was for peace, on the Muskingum. 

Alas ! for the worried and harrowed Moravian towns, their great and 
good protector, Netawatwees, had died at Fort Pitt in '76, desiring, as 
his last will and testament, that his nation should embrace the Gospel. 
His successor, the greater Captain White Eyes, although, like King 
Agrippa, "almost persuaded to be a Christian," had contented himself 
with remaining their staunch and unwavering friend, and had died the 
very next year. Soon after, the young chief who was lineally to suc- 
ceed them, was compelled, by Pipe and tribal dissensions, to move with 
his guardians, Killbuck and Big Cat, to Smoky Island, under the pro- 
tecting guns of Fort Pitt. 

What more was left for the peeling and scattering of these persecuted 
heathen converts? The ignoble trio of tories and deserters from Fort 
Pitt having been baffled in all their bad schemes, now applied for aid to 
the Six Nations of New York, who claimed all the Ohio soil and a pro- 
tectorate over the western tribes. These steady friends of the British 
would not openly interfere, but were found ready enough to relegate 
the cowardly business to others, so they sent to the Chippewas and Ot- 
tawas the following pleasant message : " W 7 e herewith make you a present 
of the Christian Indians on the Muskingum to make broth of." These two 
nations were too proud to engage in such contemptible work, alleging 
that "their ' Grandfather ' had done them no injury." The same sum- 
mons was then sent to the Wyandots, who were nearly connected with 
the Six Nations, but even they at first refused, since the Delawares were 
their "cousins," and they had formerly contracted to be protectors of 
the Christian Indians. 

Pomoacon Destroys Towns and Carries Moravians Captive. 

The machinations of Girty, Pipe and the rest soon persuaded the Half 
King to lead a hostile expedition against the Moravian towns. Accord- 
ingly, with a cohort of three hundred chosen warriors, Pomoacon 
"came down like a wolf on the fold." British guns were in their hands; 
the British flag waved over them, and Elliott, a British captain, was at 
their head. It was either removal or death. 

Great and unspeakable was the consternation among these three peace- 
ful communities at the sudden appearance of so many fierce and hostile 
warriors. The gist of the Half King's commands was that the believing 
Indians "were sitting just half way between two powerful, angry gods, 
who stood with their mouths wide open and looking ferociously at each 
other; that if they didn't move back out of the road they would be 



Towns Destroyed and Moravians Captured. 401 

ground to powder by the teeth of either one or the other, or perhaps by 
both. He urged them not to stand stupidly gazing at their horses, 
flocks and standing crops, but to rise, take their teachers, and he would 
lead them to a fat and rich place, near his own town, where game, fish 
and corn were plenty." 

No use to argue ! A whole week was spent in that way, the unruly 
rabble becoming each day more violent and aggressive, wantonly shoot- 
ing down cattle, pillaging houses, and ridmg over fenced grounds. The 
interception of some messengers who had secretly been dispatched to 
Fort Pitt, and the escape thither of a squaw who had ridden off Pipe's 
famous riding horse, brought matters to a crisis, and the missionaries 
and their chief assistants were arrested and menaced with death. This 
so alarmed the more timid of the congregations that they finally con- 
sented to leave their beautiful villages behind, and go whither their cruel 
and merciless persecutors directed. 

The last parting was a most touching one. The chapel was thrown 
open and crowded with people, many of the heathen savages having 
also flocked in. After hymn singing by the united congregations, all 
joining their sad wails together, Zeisberger, their most beloved minis- 
ter, calmly arose and preached a touching and most powerful sermon 
from Isaiah liv : 8 — " In a little wrath I hid my face from thee for a 
moment, but with everlasting kindness will I have mercy on thee, saith 
the Lord, thy Redeemer." 

The scene then presented was certainly one of very extraordinary 
interest. The venerable missionary was most profoundly grieved and 
touched, and discoursed with unwonted force and feeling; Joachim, 
the native chapel • interpreter, spoke with equal freedom and unction, 
and as his clear, ringing tones resounded through the crowded assem- 
blage, weeping and wailings arose on all sides. It was like an inspira- 
tion — as if the tongue had been " touched with a live coal from off the 
altar." Even the on-looking heathen were moved to tears. 

But why dwell longer on these sad and harrowing scenes? These 
persecuted Christians, "hunted like a partridge upon the mountain," 
placed their beloved pastors in their midst, and took up their melan- 
choly pilgrimage for the distant Sandusky ; all their comfortable homes 
abandoned ; over three hundred acres of standing corn left in the ear ; 
most of their cattle shot or driven to the woods; their bountiful stores 
of meat, honey, tools, &c, left behind, and nothing to look forward 
to but a dreary Winter of cold and privations. 

They were just a month on their way, and suffered untold hardships. 
But these were as nothing to what followed. The promised Paradise 
turned out a bleak, wintry desert. The wretched victims were cast 
^6 



402 Our Western Border. 

adrift in the barren woods, while the Half King and his exultant followers 
continued on to their own town. Some miserable hovels were knocked 
up. Many of their cattle now died of absolute starvation, and amid 
want, pinching cold, and sick and starving children, passed the terrible 
Winter of '81. Added to all this, their missionaries were now dragged 
to Detroit and confronted with Pipe, their chief tormentor and accuser. 

On being ordered by the British commandant, De Peyster, to make 
good his constant charges against the Muskingum Moravians, that trucu- 
lent worthy, much to the surprise of all, called on his chiefs to "get on 
their legs and speak." Alas ! these were utterly dumb ! A second com- 
mand, and Pipe arose in a most embarrassed manner, and recalled all 
he had ever said against the Moravians ; taking the blame on himself 
and tribe, and concluded with the request that the missionaries should 
be treated well, and sent back to their suffering congregations. Being 
thus triumphantly acquitted, this was done, De Peyster making all the 
amends in his power by sending with them food, clothes and his best 
wishes. 

The year 1782 opened very miserably for the poor wanderers. They 
had, it is true, built a new chapel and continued their devotions, but 
suffered so terribly from cold and want of provisions, that many sick- 
ened and died. They were straitened to that degree as to be obliged 
to live on the carcasses of their starved cattle, and many sucking babes 
perished miserably. Each grown person was reduced to one pint of 
corn per day. The famine now increased ; corn advanced to half a 
dollar per quart, and very little to be had at that ; their children dis- 
tressed them by their constant wails for food, and, to save them and 
theirs from sheer starvation, they concluded to return to their forsaken 
towns on the Muskingum, and gather the corn from the large crops they 
had left standing in the ear. They accordingly set out — men, women 
and children, with horses to bring back the food — in three divisions, 
and numbering one hundred and fifty souls. 

Girty and the Half King all this time continued increasingly hostile. 
Their object was to drive the "praying Indians" out of the country 
altogether. To this end new charges were trumped up against the mis- 
sionaries, the Half King threatening that if they were not removed he 
" would know what to do." A special order from Detroit was sent to 
Girty to conduct them again to Detroit, and should they refuse to 
come, Pomoacon was bidden to aid him. 

The grief and consternation of the poor Indians when they found 
they must lose their pastors and. teachers, was indescribable. They lost 
both sleep and appetite, and hurried off messengers to hasten back the 
expedition which had left for the Muskingum in quest of corn. Alas ! 



Horrible Massacre of Moravians at Gnadenhutten. 403 

most of these were fated never to come back, or to look again on the 
faces of their beloved teachers. 

On March 14th, just as the missionaries were preparing to set off, 
they heard the " alarm yell " sound, and, on going out, found a " run- 
ner " returning from the Muskingum with the sad news that while the 
one hundred and fifty Indians were busy gathering their maize, a party 
of Virginians had come upon them and made them all prisoners, killing 
some and taking the remainder to Pittsburgh. 

With this heavy news the missionaries started. How would their 
hearts have bled had they known the whole dread story, in all its horrid 
and sickening details ! They surely must have concluded that the Half 
King's rhetorical figure was not overdrawn, and that between the two 
angry gods standing opposed to each other with mouths open, the 
one on the Sandusky and the other on the Ohio, they and their flocks 
were being ground to powder. 



HORRIBLE MASSACRE OF MORAVIANS AT 
GNADENHUTTEN. 

In order to render the account of the Gnadenhutten massacre more 
actual to our readers, we borrow a chapter from our Historical Work of 
"Simon Girty, the Renegade." The narration therein given is faith- 
ful to history, having been carefully gathered from every reliable source, 
while the dialogue style makes the whole drama, as it were, more present 
and realistic. In order to a fuller understanding of the scene presented, 
we may premise that two companies of border scouts, out on an Indian 
trail in search of a party of captives, meet and encamp by appointment 
— only two months after the massacre — near the burnt and deserted 
village of Gnadenhutten. Captain Sam. Brady, the noted scout and 
one of the prominent characters of the romance, desirous of witnessing 
the deserted ruins, and the scene of a butchery, the details of which 
were then in every mouth on the frontier, is piloted at night to the ruins 
by Rev. Edward Christy. This young divine, having lost his betrothed 
by Indians, had accompanied Williamson's slaughtering expedition, and 
was a protesting and horrified witness of the dreadful drama. We now 
quote : 

* * * * "Let me see," replied Christy, reflectively, "it was 
the 4th of March that our company of about a hundred, gathered from 



404 Our Western Border. 

the Ohio shore and the various settlements along Short, Buffalo, Rac- 
coon, Ten Mile, and other creeks, assembled at Mingo Bottom. Most 
of us were good and true men, who were much exasperated at Indian 
incursions and atrocities and determined to retaliate. Since all the 
signs favored the Moravians as either the perpetrators or the instigators 
of these thefts and scalpings, and as we did not know their characters 
so well as they were known at Fort Pitt, we were honest in our ends; 
but still there were many Indian haters among us ; people who looked 
upon them as of no more account than mad curs, to be shot on sight ; 
others, who had a religious or rather fanatical hate of all redmen, and 
very many rough, lawless desperadoes, who coveted their lands, horses 
and pelts, and who, by their boldness and violence, were allowed to 
have far too much influence among us. There was the mischief ! It 
was an odd and incongruous mixture of good and bad. 

" Well, in about two days we came in sight of this town. We found 
out afterwards that about one hundred and fifty men, women and chil- 
dren, all told, had come down from Sandusky to gather their corn, and 
that the day before our coming, a party of Wyandots passing through 
here confessed to a border murder, and advised them all to be off or 
they would be attacked. A conference was then held here by the lead- 
ers of the three villages, and the conclusion was, that as they had always 
been peaceable and friendly to the whites, feeding and relieving their 
captives and sending the settlements early intelligence of expected raids, 
they certainly had nothing to fear ; but it was also resolved, that as they 
had gathered their corn and were all ready to go back, they would start 
from home on the 6th, the very day we arrived. 

" Our videttes having informed us that most of the reddys were across 
the river, the band was divided into two equal parts ; one to cross over 
about a mile below Gnadenhutten and secure those who were gathering 
corn, and the other, with which I was, to attack this village itself. The 
first party found young Shabosch about a mile from here out catching 
horses. He was shot and scalped by a Captain Builderbeck.* find- 
ing no canoes for crossing, and the river being high and running ice, 
young Dave Slaughter swam over and brought back an old sugar trough, 
which would only carry two at a time. 



*This Captain Builderbeck was a large, fine looking, and very daring borderer, who was some 
years after captured by Indians. On giving his name, a look of intelligence immediately circulated 
among his captors. He was recognized as the man who fired the first shot at the Moravian massa- 
cre, and as the slayer of the much-esteemed Shabosch, and was at once killed and scalped under 
circumstances of great cruelty. It may here also be stated that, although Colonel David William- 
son escaped immediate retribution for his share in the massacre, and was even afterwards made 
sheriff of Washington county, Pa., yet towards the end of his life he became wretchedly poor, and 
died in the Washington,, Pa., jail 



Horrible Massacre of Moravians at Gnadenhutten. 405 

" This was slow work, and a good many stripped, and, putting guns 
and clothes on board, swam over. Fearing the noise of their shot 
would alarm the Indians, they sent word for us to advance on the town, 
which we did with a, rush, finding it, much to our surprise, completely 
deserted — all but one man, who was just pushing off in a canoe, and 
who was instantly killed. 

"The other party hurried along with all speed; hailed the corn 
gatherers as friends and brothers ; told them they had heard of their 
sufferings and bad treatment among the Hurons, and offered to take 
them to Fort Pitt and protect and support them. 

" This was joyful news to the Indians, for they had been so starved 
and maltreated that any change was for the better. So they gathered 
about, shook hands and exchanged congratulations with each other. 
They were then advised to leave off work and cross to Gnadenhutten. 

" Meanwhile, as we afterwards learned, a native teacher, by name of 
Martin, from Salem, on the west side of the river, five miles below, was 
out with his son and saw the tracks of our shodden horses, for we had a 
good many mounted men with us; and being surprised thereat, as- 
cended a hill to reconnoitre. Seeing whites and reds all together, talk- 
ing and chatting in the most friendly manner, he sent his son across, 
while he rode rapidly off to Salem, and told them there what he had 
seen, giving it as his opinion that God had ordained that they should 
not perish on the Sandusky barrens, and that these whites were sent to 
succor them. Two brethren were then dispatched to this village, and 
finding all favorable, returned with some of our band to Salem, who, 
on repeating the same promises that were made by the whites here, all 
came trooping up the west bank. 

"Unfortunately, our party who went to Salem set fire to the church 
and houses there, which at once excited disapproval and suspicion. It 
was explained, however, that as they were going to abandon the 
place, it had been done to prevent its occupation by the enemy." 

"They must have been a very credulous folk," here put in Brady, 
" to be so easily deceived." 

" Well, I've heard that our boys talked religion to them, praised their 
church, called them good Christians, and made so many fine promises 
that their suspicions seem to have been completely lulled. On arriving 
opposite this place, however, their eyes were opened very quick ; but 
it was now too late. They discovered blood on the sandy beach, and 
more of it in the canoe by which they crossed." 

" But when they found themselves betrayed, why didn't they fly to 
arms:*" wonderingly asked Brady. 

" Ah, that was the most curious part of the whole performance," said 



406 Our Western Border. 

Christy. "Both lots of Indians had freely and unhesitatingly yielded 
up guns, axes and knives, on solemn promise being made that when 
arrived at Pittsburgh all should be promptly returned to the right own- 
ers ; besides, by their religion, they were non-combatants. 

" Up to this point, I cannot say but what I, and many who after- 
wards joined me in a solemn protest against the subsequent atrocities, 
acquiesced. But now all disguise was thrown off, and we immediately 
saw that, guilty or not guilty, these poor creatures, of all ages and both 
sexes, were doomed to a horrid death. I almost shudder at the thought 
of what followed. 



The Indians Told to Prepare for Death — Touching Scenes. 

" Brady, do you see that blotch of deep shadow yonder, marking a 
break in the river bank ?" 

" Just in front of those two spectral-looking chimney-stacks? Yes; 
what of it?" 

" 'Twas the road to the ferry; and right on that bluff above, the two 
lots of dismayed Indians met and exchanged sad greetings and suspi- 
cions. They had much reason. For, presto, presto, and the scene was 
now abruptly changed. The looks of their captors lowered ; their 
faces became clouded and sullen ; their words grew fierce and insolent. 
They roughly separated the women and children, and confined them in 
one cabin, and then drove the shocked and unresisting males into an- 
other, impudently charging them with being warriors and enemies instead . 
of peaceful Christians; with having the stolen goods of murdered bor- 
derers in their possession, and triumphantly pointing to pewter dishes 
and spoons, and to branded horses as proof of the alleged robberies. 

" 'Twas in vain that the branding irons made by native blacksmiths 
were shown, and that the astonished Indians accounted — as I heard their 
teachers do in each case — for every article in their possession — what had 
been made by themselves and what had been bought from traders or 
carried from the East. It was the old fable of the Wolf and the Lamb. 
They were doomed to destruction, and as the terrible truth gradually 
took possession of them, a feeling of horror was depicted on their tear- 
ful countenances. 

" A council was now held by the miscreant band, and a violent and 
bloodthirsty feeling soon developed itself. Angry words arose, followed 
by menacing gestures. Suggestions of pity and moderation were rudely 
scoffed at, and it soon became manifest that the hundred were to be 
ruled and domineered by a few fierce, violent, fanatical spirits — turbulent, 



The Indians Told to Prepare for Death. 407 

tempestuous borderers, with mouths filled with whiskey, tobacco and big 
oaths, and who hated and hunted Indians like snakes." 

" But where was the craven Williamson all this time?" queried Brady, 
indignantly; "and why didn't he at once rebuke and beat down this 
dastardly treachery?" 

" Well, Williamson did what he could in a mild, arguing sort of way. 
I'll give him that credit. But his band was u militia, all of equal author- 
ity, collected from various places, many of them unknown to him ; 
and, although a brave and humane man himself, he hadn't that kind of 
quiet moral force that such a lawless band required. All he and the 
officers generally dared to do was to refer the matter to the men and 
take a vote.* 

" Well, by — , there's just where he made a fatal mistake," hotly put 
in Brady. " I've served through the Revolution, and know well how a 
few bold, blustering bullies can make a whole regiment do wrong against 
their will. No use for an officer to temporize and argue with that strain 
of men. He must take the bull by the horns, and dare do his whole 
duty. If Dave Williamson had stepped sternly out ; boldly denounced 
and forbidden such villainy, and called on his command to obey orders, 
and not discuss them, the few cut-throat savages would have at once 
slunk away, and the rest asserted themselves." 

" 1 believe you, Captain," answered the young divinity student, 
quietly ; " but would have believed you just as readily if you hadn't 
challenged your Maker to back you up. ' Thou shalt not take the 
name of the Lord thy God in vain.' " 

"I ask your pardon, sir," answered Brady, confusedly, feeling the 
rebuke was deserved. "I forgot your cloth, and we borderers fall into 
a rough way of speaking; but I get so riled up at the memory of the 
Moravian butchery that I want to talk as strong as I feel." 

Mr. Christy bowed gravely, and continued: "Well, whether the 
Colonel could or could not control his men, it is certain he didn't; but 
pusillanimously shifted the responsibility on his band by a vote < whether 
the Moravian Indians should be taken prisoners to Pittsburgh or put to 
death,' and requested that all those who were in favor of saving their 
lives should step out of the line and form a second rank. 



*ln justice to the memory of Colonel Williamson, I have to say that, although at that time very 
young, I was personally acquainted with him, and say with confidence he was a brave man, but not 
cruel. He would meet an enemy in battle and fight like a soldier, but not murder a prisoner.— Dod- 
dridge's Notes. ' 

From the best evidence before us, Colonel Williamson deserves not the censure belonging to this 
campaign. He is acknowledged or. all hands to have been a brave and meritorious officer, and had 
he possessed proper command, none can doubt but what the result would have been very different.— 
De Hass' History of Western Virginia. 



408 Our Western Border. 

"Would you believe it, Brady, only eighteen out of all that party dared 
to put themselves on the side of right and justice — just a paltry eighteen. 
The rest were overawed or demonized, I don't know which. I was 
shocked ! confounded ! speechless with amazement ! had talked with a 
number of the teachers and leading Indians, and was perfectly con- 
vinced they were good and sincere Christians, ever on the side of peace, 
and having nothing whatever to do with border raids and savageries. 

' ' I supposed that, having the same proofs, many others were likewise 
so convinced, but when I saw this sparse little group of protesters, I 
thought 'twas high time to do my duty if the Colonel wouldn't do his. 
So I held a brief consultation with our party, and then harangued the 
whole assemblage, protesting, in the most solemn manner, against such 
a horrible piece of hypocrisy and outrage. I went over all the circum- 
stances of the case; showed how we had disarmed and then enticed 
over these inoffensive Christians; what they had already suffered from 
Girty and the Ohio tribes, and finished by calling God to witness that 
we would be innocent of their blood." 

"The base, infernal butchers," said Brady. "I hope you put it to 
them hot and strong." 

"I did, indeed, Captain; stronger than they would bear, for, while 
the better part of them slunk away beyond the sound of my voice, and 
others winced and uneasily affected to scoff and jeer at my reproofs, the 
bolder scoundrels gathered about me with scowling faces and menacing 
gestures; called me a young milksop, a chicken-hearted boy, a black- 
coated pedagogue, old McMillan's baby darling, and what not. 

"I tell you, Brady, I seemed to be looking into the fierce, savage 
faces of a pack of famished, blood-thirsty wolves; their yellow eyes 
shot fire; their teeth gnashed like fangs; they glared at me horribly, 
nervously rubbing their hands together as if they wanted to tear me to 
pieces. I couldn't believe these were my gay, roystering companions 
of the day previous. Like tigers, the smell of blood seemed to have 
completely crazed them, and whetted 'their appetites for more." 

"It's marvelous," here interrupted Brady. "It does seem as if the 
long Indian wars had actually debased a large number of our frontier 
people to the savage state. Having lost so many friends and relatives 
by the reddys, and heard of so many horrid murders and scalpings, 
they are possessed with an insatiate thirst for blood, and look upon all 
Indians as wild varmints to be killed and scalped on sight. They are 
worse than the savages themselves. Well, what next?"* 



*The sentiment here expressed by Brady is the same as written by Dr. Joseph Doddridge, an 
historian ot that period, in his Notes on Indian Wars. 



Touching Scenes. 409 

' < Oh, our steadfast little band of malcontents barely escaped vio- 
lence, and retired to the edge of the woods, protesting in God's name 
against the diabolical atrocity resolved upon. Meanwhile the assassins 
. — for I can call them by no milder name — debated as to the mode of 
death. Some even advised burning the Moravians alive, as they were 
cooped up in the two cabins. At last it was decided to kill and scalp 
them wholesale, and then burn their towns and carry off all their 
horses, skins, &c. 

"You may faintly imagine, but I can't hope to describe, the scene 
that ensued when this terrible news was told the victims. The males 
soon quieted down into a sort of sullen, stoical indifference, but the 
tears and wails and shrieks among the women and children were truly 
heart-rending. They might have moved hearts of stone — not of ada- 
mant. 

" A petition now came up from the poor betrayed innocents that they 
might have some time to prepare for death. They called God to wit- 
ness their guiltlessness, but were ready to suffer for His sake, only ask- 
ing that they might sing and pray together, and make their peace with 
Him. 

"This was grudgingly granted. It was now night. The heavens 
were overcast. The wind arose, and soughed mournfully through the 
forest where our little party sat sad and indignant ; but above all the 
noise and bluster of the winds, floated the strong, sweet sounds of pub- 
lic worship. 

" I could scarce believe my own ears, and several of us wended our 
way to the cabins, passing the huge fires around which were assembled 
the main portion of the expedition. Approaching a window, I stepped 
upon a log, looked in, and beheld one of the most touching scenes man 
ever saw. The hymns were just over, and now strong, brawny, 
swarthy -hued men were passing around shaking each other's hands and 
kissing each other's cheeks. Some faces were bedewed with tears, and 
some convulsed with agony, but most had on them the joyful, ex- 
ultant expression of the victory almost won — a prefiguration, as it were, 
of the coming glory. Now they tenderly asked each other's pardon 
for offences given or griefs occasioned ; now they kneeled and offered, 
with uplifted faces — which seemed to brighten with a radiance almost 
celestial — fervent prayers to God, their Saviour, and then, as one or 
another would touchingly allude to their wives and children — so near 
to them and yet so far from them — the whole assemblage would burst 
out into tears and convulsive sobbings. 

" Oh, Brady, 'twas just awful ! I never expect to witness on earth 
another such moving sight. I never hope to see God's grace and power 



410 Our Western Border. 

so manifested, or His name so magnified. No heathen curses or boast- 
ings ; no revilings of their cruel, merciless murderers, or calling down 
upon them of Almighty vengeance. All was love and joy, and resigna- 
tion to God's will. Some even had the amazing grace to imitate our 
Saviour, and cry out, ' Father, forgive them ; they know not what they do.' 

' ' The scene among the poor women and children was somewhat 
similar, only infinitely more harrowing and agonizing. Ruthlessly torn 
from those who should have been their stay and support in these last 
trying hours, how could their sobs and wails and pitiful cries be pent 
up ! And how, hearing and seeing all this, and not old enough to 
have the martyr's faith and joy in death, could tender, innocent chil- 
dren, who laugh or weep like a capricious April day, be expected to 
bear up against such an overwhelming woe ! 

"Excited by a louder and more distressful wail — more like a shriek — 
than usual, I summoned up courage to take one glance within. Merci- 
ful Father ! One was enough ! An exemplary believer, Christina by 
name, from Bethlehem, Pa., had just finished an exhortation for all to 
stand firm to the death ; that there was no hope left but in a merciful 
Saviour; and that if those present could not see their husbands or 
fathers in this world, they soon would in another and better. 

"The poor creatures did not seem to realize their awful fate till then, 
and such a heart-rending wail arose from the whole assemblage as would 
have moved the dead. I saw fond mothers, with tears streaming down 
their tawny faces, convulsively embrace their dear little children, and 
children — some of them scarcely knowing what it all meant — clinging 
to their parents amid harrowing cries and sobbings ; but, most touching 
sight of all ! a number of little ones of both sexes had quietly fallen 
asleep, and were lying around, with tearful, passionate, agonized 
mothers' faces hanging over them. 

" Horror-stricken, I almost fell from my position at the window, and 
rushed off to find Williamson. I implored him to come back with me 
and gaze upon that dolorous scene. He declined, kindly, but firmly; 
said he deeply regretted the way matters stood, but was powerless to do 
anything. 'Twas as much as his life was worth. He had done all he 
could, but each man had as much authority as himself, and all were 
stubbornly bent on vengeance. 

"I then asked permission to enter the two cabins and mingle with 
the victims, and help prepare them for the dreadful fate awaiting them. 
This raised a storm of indignant reproach among the men who, attracted 
by the discussion, ' had gathered about. Some of them had imbibed 
freely from a keg of sacramental wine they had discovered, and were 
rude and turbulent. 



Inhumanly Butchered. 411 

" I rejoined our little party, and sadly awaited the morning. The 
8th of March dawned gloomily. The air was raw and chilly, and gusts 
of wind and soft snow would at times sweep through the air. Two 
houses were chosen for the execution, one for the men and the other for 
the women and children. To these the wanton murderers appropriately 
gave the name of 'slaughter-houses !' You see those two naked chim- 
neys ? 'Tis all that's left of them ; but come, Brady ! let's go nearer, 
that I may explain what happened next." 



Driven into Two Slaughter-houses and Inhumanly Butchered. 

The twain silently arose from an old canoe which had ■ served as a 
seat, and almost shudderingly advanced to where the "slaughter-houses" 
had stood. The moon was now obscured behind a heavy, rapidly-drift- 
ing cloud. A brisk breeze brought mournful sounds from the encircling 
forests. They now stood upon the very edge of the cellar where lay 
the scorched and half-consumed remains of twenty women and thirty- 
four children. 

Nothing there but a heap of charred and blackened ruins ! A rank, 
fetid, charnel-house odor filled the air and offended the nostrils. A 
blue smoke was even yet rising from one corner of the crushed and 
fallen timbers. The scene was weird and uncanny. The gloom and 
desolation became oppressive. Neither spake. At last Brady 
whispered : 

" For God's sake, Christy, let's get out of this ! It's simply horri- 
ble ! I'm not easily moved, but what you've told me this night ; this 
sacrificial stench of burnt flesh, and that pile of still smouldering ruins, 
shock me deeply. I seem to see the whole awful scene before me, and 
feel it down to the very marrow of my bones." 

" And so I," replied Christy, in low, earnest tones, while tightly 
clutching Brady's arm. " It's given me the horrors for two months. I 
saw but a small part of the damnable atrocities, and yet enough to cur- 
die my blood, and at night, especially, the hellish saturnalia rise up 
before me in ghostly procession. I cannot shut them out. They grip 
and shake me like a hideous nightmare, and yet they do my, soul good. 
' Though He slay me, yet will 1 trust in Him.' But come! you must 
see the other one;" and Christy dragged his companion hurriedly for- 
ward to the cellar, where lay buried amid the charred and smoking 
debris, the remains of forty-two slaughtered male converts. 

This cellar presented about the same dismal and forlorn aspect as did 
the other. As the two stood gloomily looking down upon the desolate 



412 Our Western Border. 

ruins, all at once Brady, in his turn, tightly grasped his companion's 
arm and hoarsely whispered : 

" My God, Christy, what's that ! Don't you hear something down 
there? Listen!" 

"No, I don't," after a pause. "You ain't trying to frighten me, 
Brady? I'm not of that — " 

"Hist! hist! there 'tis again! By Heaven, I tell you there is a 
strange sound down there — a sort of grating, grinding, crunching noise. 
It stopped for a moment, but I heard it just now again. Must be some 
varmint " — and Brady hunted around by the obscure light, and found a 
heavy stick of charred wood, which he, with a shout, hurled down into 
the cellar. 

An instant noise and rush were heard from various parts of the ruins, 
accompanied by short, angry yelps and snarls, and immediately after 
could be seen leaping up from under the arched timbers and darting off, 
several gaunt and shaggy forms, which soon disappeared in the adjacent 
woods. 

" Must be Indian dogs left here, and looking for their poor, lost mas- 
ters," nervously whispered Christy. 

"Dogs be hanged," quickly answered Brady; "they're ravenous 
wolves gone down beneath that pile of burnt stuff to gnaw the bones of 
the dead. TShought I couldn't be mistaken in those crunching, mum- 
bling sounds. Now come away, I tell you ! I'll stop here no longer. 
It's a horrible charnel-house — would as soon breathe the stifling odor of 
the Catacombs," and Brady led the way from the place with quick, im- 
patient strides. 

They soon left the deserted village behind them ; entered the dense, 
sombre woods ; sped along till the camp fires were in full view, and 
then sat down on a mossy log to rest. Here Brady felt again at home, 
but nothing was said for some little time. At length, while taking off 
his skin cap, thridding his thick chestnut curls with his fingers, and wip- 
ing the thick beads from his brow, Brady smilingly remarked : 

" Glad to get out of that graveyard, anyhow ! It's strange, Christy, 
how the night will affect a strong man. Now I'm no chicken, and am 
deemed a pretty tough, weather-beaten old hunter. Scarcely know what 
nerves are in the daytime, and yet many a night in the woods, on a 
' painter ' or Indian hunt, I've started up and found my head filled with 
the sickliest kind of fancies — thought Indians were on all sides of me. 
Every dancing, rustling leaf above my head would take strange, fantas- 
tic shapes in the flickering firelight, and make me as nervous as a girl 
with the megrims, or as a cat in a strange garret. I'd pish and pshaw? 
and shut my eyes tight, but not the slightest use. I never could get to 



Inhumanly Butchered. 413 

sleep again without jumping up, giving the fire a turn, taking a pipe of 
tobacco, and then, maybe, going over several times my ' Now I lay 
me's,' &c." 

" It is odd," laughed Christy. "I have the same experience. Night 
makes mountains out of mole hills, and it's a capital time for nursing 
up all one's pet troubles. Great pity that our feelings, and even our 
faith, should depend on the state of our liver, and on whether we've 
eaten pork and cabbage, or corn pone and venison for supper. I'll tell 
you one thing, though, Brady. I don't believe certain ones I could 
name of Williamson's gang would dare go within a stone's throw of that 
village by night, and as for gazing down at either one of those cellars, 
'twould be worse on them than a regular scalping; but shall I go on, or 
wait another time ? " 

'• Oh, yes, go on ! go on ! Make a finish of it at once ! " said Brady. 
"I'm daily learning how little better many Christian whites are than wild 
beasts, and how much worse oftentimes than heathen." 

" 'But for the grace of God there goes John Bunyan ! ' said once 
the ' inspired tinker,' on seeing a drunken, worthless wretch reeling 
down the street of Bedford, and I suspect," added Christy, "we all 
have that same tendency of going back to our original wildness which 
fruit trees are said to possess. But to resume : 

" On the morning of the 8th the doomed Christians again commenced 
their devotions, but were interrupted by one of the executioners bluntly 
asking if they were not yet ready for death. The reply came in the 
affirmative ; they had commended their souls to God and were now pre- 
pared for the sacrifice. 

" The cabin in which the males were confined belonged to a cooper, 
and one of the party — you'd be shocked, Brady, if I called him by 
name — taking up a cooper's mallet, said : ' How exactly this will an- 
swer for, the business,' and commencing with Abraham, who I learned 
was a most devoted and exemplary disciple, he felled, as a butcher would 
so many beeves, no less than fourteen Christians I He now handed the 
bloody mallet to another miscreant, with the remark : < My arm fails 
me ! Go on in the same way ! I think Pve done pretty well ! ' and so 
the horrid, hellish work went on till over forty were thus dropped, 
scalped and hacked to pieces. 

" In the other house, Judith, an aged and remarkably pious and gentle 
widow, was the first victim. Christina, before mentioned, fell on her 
knees and begged for life. In vain ! In vain ! The tigers had again 
tasted blood. In both houses men, women and children were bound by 
ropes in couples, and were thus 'led like lambs to the slaughter.' Most 
all of them, I heard — for I only saw that part of the butchery which I 



414 Our Western Border. 

was compelled to witness — marched cheerfully, and some smilingly, to 
meet their death. 

"And in this atrocious and inhuman manner," solemnly continued 
Christy, " died, in all, over ninety Christian Indians, and may God 
have had mercy on their souls, and given them, in Heaven, that joy and 
peace which His enemies prevented them from knowing on earth." 

" Amen ! " added Brady, in his deep, bass tones, "and may His curse 
and punishment equally follow — " 

" Stop ! stop ! my hasty friend. < Vengeance is mine : I will repay, 
sayeth the Lord.' We can safely rest this matter with Him. ' The 
mills of the Gods grind slow, but they grind exceeding fine.' Five of 
the slain were extremely aged and accomplished native teachers- — two 
of them originally converts to Brainard, in New Jersey, and one, the 
famous fighting chief, Glickhiccan. 

" But the children ! Ah, the tender, innocent children ! whose lov- 
ing voices of praise had so often ascended from the home, the school 
and the chapel ; my heart faileth me to describe the shocking and har- 
rowing scene of their horrid death. Their agonizing cries pierce my 
ears ; their pitiful, beseeching young faces wring my heart even to this 
day." 

One Little Boy Saved — Slaughter Renewed at Smoky Island. 

" My God ! what sickening savagery ! " gasped Brady. " It fairly 
stuns and appalls me ! And were none of those precious innocents al- 
lowed to live ? " 

" I'll tell you, my friend, for your query leads me to the part /took 
in the tragedy. After exhausting every effort to stay the carnage, I 
had, with very many others, kept aloof from the slaughter pens, but all 
at once heard a piercing shriek, and saw a bright, active young lad of 
about eight years running for dear life in my direction, and pursued by 
one of the murderers with a gory, uplifted tomahawk. I immediately 
sprang towards him. The little fellow saw me ; ran as hard as his tiny 
legs would carry him, and wound his arms tight about my limbs, crying — . 
'Good pale face ! save 'ittle Injun boy. Don't let him kill Benny ! oh, 
don't!' 

" I would have saved that life with my own ! Raising my rifle and 
drawing a bead on him, I sternly warned off the pursuing cut-throat. 
Fortunately those who saw the affair Avere as much moved as I was, and 
backed me up at once. And so the bloody miscreant was forced to re- 
tire sullenly without his prey." 

"■ And what became of the lad? " eagerly asked Brady. 



One Little Boy Saved, 415 



" He's at my father's house on Buffalo Creek, and — oh, strange in- 
consistency of man ! — the very caitiffs who were so pitiless at the car- 
nage, overwhelmed the little fellow with their attentions on the route 
home. He became a great favorite with all. Happily for him he has 
a child's memory, and is now as merry and frolicsome as any of my lit- 
tle brothers with whom he plays. I intend raising him and making a 
missionary of him. as the only reparation I can give for my share in 
this disgraceful expedition." * 

'• Oh, you're not to blame," said his companion, "and I thank you 
in the name of our common humanity for what you were able to do ; 
1 ut what became of those at the upper village ? " 

■ • Why, soon as the slaughter was over, a party of the most insatiable 
of the freebooters scurried off on horseback to Schoenbrun ; but, thank 
God, the game had fled. The village was found completely deserted, 
so setting fire to it, they returned and finished their devastation here, 
by first burning the two ' slaughter-houses,' and then the chapel, school 
house and all the other buildings. 

" Hastily gathering up their ill-gotten and blood-stained plunder, they 
started for home, driving before them about fifty stolen horses. Some 
time after they marched to Smoky Island, opposite Fort Pitt ; attacked 
a settlement of peaceful and friendly Delawares there, under Killbuck, 
Big Cat, and the young chief who was to succeed White Eyes ; killed 
and scalped him with many others ; drove off the other chiefs and a ser- 
geant's guard from the fort ; crossed to Pittsburgh, boasting of their in- 
human atrocities, and ended by having a public vendue of all the 
blankets, guns, horses and other booty, so vilely and meanly stolen ; and 
so my story's ended/' 

'•And a sad and shameful one it is," said Brady, as he rose slowly to 
his feet. "I fairly shudder at it — can scarce credit it — seems like some 
horrid nightmare ! Come ! I feel sore about this. Let's to camp ! 
There's no use in a hell if not meant for just such fellows." 

We may add here some few additional facts derived from Mora van 
writers, and of which, of course, Mr. Christy was then ignorant. Two 
Indian lads, respectively aged fourteen and fifteen, made a miraculous 
escape from the 'slaughter-houses.' One (Thomas by name) was knocked 
down and scalped with the rest, but after a while, coming to his senses, 
he saw Abel, a friend, also scalped, covered with blood and trying to 
get on his feet. Fearing a return of the murderers, Thomas lay down 
and feigned death. True enough, the murderers did return, and seeing 



. * One little boy of eight years old (named Benjamin) was happily saved by a humane white man 
of the party, who privately took him off to hi-, home, where he raised him to a man, whence he af- 
terwards returned to the Indian country. — Heckeivelder, Mor. Missions. 



416 Our Western Border. 

Abel still living, chopped his head off. Thomas now crept over all the 
dead, mutilated bodies, stole out at the door, and concealed himself until 
dark and escaped. 

The other lad referred to as escaping was in the house with the women 
and children, and raising a loose plank which served as a trap into the 
cellar, he and a companion slipped into the basement, and lay there 
during the whole time of the butchery, the blood of the slaughtered 
women and children running down upon them in streams through the. 
crevices of the rough plank floor. At dark they both attempted to 
escape by a small hole which served for a window. The smaller one 
succeeded, but his companion stuck fast and was burnt with the house. 

These two lads, the only human beings, besides the child mentioned, 
who escaped the slaughter, took to the woods at different times, and 
with that unerring sagacity which seems to be an instinct with Indians of 
all ages, made a straight course home. The next day they met on the 
trail, and also fell in with the spared fugitives from Schoenbrun. These 
latter had providentially been warned in time for all to escape. 

A runner named Stephen had been sent down from Sandusky by the 
missionaries Zeisberger and Heckewelder to the three Moravian towns, 
summoning the corn-gathering parties to return. As he was much spent 
on arriving at Schoenbrun, two fresh messengers were sent on to Gnad- 
enhutten and Salem. On approaching the former, they saw tracks of 
shodden horses; then came on the scalped and mangled body of young 
Shabosch, and then saw in the distance the whites and Indians all crowded 
together. Hastening back with the news, the Indians at Schoenbrun at 
once took to the woods near by, and were there concealed when the 
monsters visited and burned their beautiful village. 

Many attempts — some of them of late years — have been made by his- 
torical writers to exculpate Williamson in regard to this terrible butchery. 
It cannot be done / The damned blood spot will not out at the bidding 
of any feeble apologist. The commander of the expedition must be 
held, not only as particeps criminis, but as its very "head and front." 
Dr. Doddridge asserts that, as a militia officer, Williamson could advise 
but not command, and that "his only fault was that of too easy com- 
pliance with popular prejudice." It is a gross abuse of words to call 
that a fault which should be deemed a flagrant crime. 

If the Colonel had but dared to head the eighteen protestants, and 
had boldly and firmly opposed the dastardly ruffians, not a man, woman 
or child would have bled. He did not so dare, but shirked his plain duty, 
bandying honied words and flimsy arguments when he should have thun- 
dered out commands or presented rifles. As with Macbeth, "All great 
iSTeptune's ocean cannot wash this blood clean from his hand." 



Slaughter Renewed at Smoky Island. 417 

The whole massacre leaves a stain of deepest dye on the page of 
American history. It was simply atrocious and execrable — a blistering 
disgrace to all concerned; utterly without excuse and incapable of de- 
fence. It damns the memory of each participator " to the last syllable 
of recorded time." All down the ages the "massacre of the Inno- 
cents" will be its only parallel. We must go to the Thugs of India or 
the slaughterers of African Dahomey for its superior. 



27 



418 Our Western Border. 



SKETCH OF SIMON GIRTY, THE " WHITE SAVAGE." 

The outlawed white man, by Ohio's flood, 

Whose vengeance shamed th»>. Indian's thirst for blood ; 

Whose hellish arts surpassed the redman's far ; 

Whose hate enkindled many a border war, 

Of which each aged grandame hath a tale 

At which man's bosom burns, and childhood's cheek grows pale. 

From the Spring of 1778 — when Girty, in company with Matthew 
Elliott, Alexander McKee, and other well-known tories, fled from Fort 
Pitt to the British Indians — down to General Wayne's battle of the 
Fallen Timbers, in '94, where the power of the western tribes was 
utterly and forever broken, no name on the whole frontier was so wide- 
ly known or so universally dreaded as that of Simon Girty — the "White 
Savage," as he was styled by the missionary Heckewelder. Scarce a 
scalping party, maraud or massacre occurred during those troublous 
times, that was not blamed on the Girtys — for there were three brothers 
of the family, all operating and influential, with the western Indians. 
The hated name was a terror in every pioneer's cabin, and the mere 
mention of it would cause woman's cheek to blanch, and children's hair 
to stand with fear. 

For a score of years Simon Girty was the Raw-head-and-bloody-bones 
of the border. That he was not so cruel and debased as represented ; 
that many of the frontier stories and traditions of him were absolute 
fictions, and that frequently enormities which were perpetrated by his 
two brothers, George and James, were falsely charged on Simon, is 
now, in the light of subsequent facts not then known, sure and certain. 
There is so much stuff and mystery concerning him in the old border 
books, that it is difficult to come at the exact truth, but, after a pains- 
taking research, we think the following sketch, in which "naught is 
extenuated and naught set down in malice," comes nearer the truth 
than anything that has yet been published. 

Simon Girty, Sr., was an Indian trader, regularly licensed by the 
Colony of Pennsylvania, and plying his perilous and vagabondish voca- 
tion among the western savages. He was a vulgar, violent old cur- 
mudgeon of an Irishman, and said to have been so besotted with liquor 
as to have turned his wife's love to hate, and to have been killed by her 
paramour. He left four boys : Thomas, Simon, George and James. 
Some time during Braddock's war, in 1755, the last three were made 



Sketch of Simon Girt y 419 

captive by the Indians ; but Thomas, who was the best and most re- 
spectable of the brood, always remained quietly at home, on a little 
run emptying into the Allegheny, near Fort Pitt, and called to this day 
"Girty's Run." 

Simon was adopted by the Indians under the name of Katepacomen ? 
and became, in dress, language and habits, a thorough Indian, and was 
ever after much enamored of their free, wilderness life, with all its un- 
shackled liberties and absence of restraints. George was adopted by 
the Delawares ; became a fierce and ferocious savage, and is said, after 
a long career of outrageous cruelties, to have been cut off in a drunken 
broil. James was adopted into the Shawnee tribe; soon grew depraved,,, 
and became a cruel and blood-thirsty raider on the Kentucky border., 
sparing not even women and children from the horrid torture. 

It was an old and true border saying, that you could never make a 
white man out of an Indian, but could very easily make an Indian out 
of a white man. There is something in the unsettled, free-and-easy 
life of the wild woods which possesses very strong and almost irresist- 
ible fascinations, and we have already shown that many of the white 
captives restored by the savages to Bouquet — even women and chil- 
dren — refused to leave their Indian relatives. When compelled, how- 
ever, to return to their old homes, they parted amid the most touching 
tears and sobbings, many afterwards escaping back to those who had 
so tenderly adopted and cared for them. Of this number was young 
Simon, but being forcibly returned to the settlements, he took up his 
home near Fort Pitt. 

We hear no more of him until Dunmore's bloody war of 1774? 
brought about by the wanton murder of Logan's relatives at the mouth 
of Yellow Creek. In this campaign, in company with Simon Kenton r 
he served as hunter and scout, and subsequently acted as Indian agent. 
He also then became well acquainted with Colonel Crawford, and was 
a guest of his at the cabin on the Yough. Like the famous French- 
man, Joncaire, Girty never felt so much at home as in the woods and 
among the wigwams or council fires of Indians, where he could har- 
angue the assembled warriors of different tribes. At the outbreak of 
the Revolution he was a commissioned officer of militia at Pittsburgh,, 
espousing the Patriot cause with zeal and serving it with fidelity until 
his desertion to the Indians from Fort Pitt, in March, 1778, with the 
notorious Matthew Elliott, Alexander McKee, and a squad of twelve 
soldiers. This tory defection, just at that unfavorable juncture, caused 
the greatest alarm along the entire frontier. We have already related at 
length the commotion it occasioned among the Delawares, then divided 
into peace and war factions. 



420 Our Western Border. 

Why did Girty, an officer in the American service, desert to the Brit- 
ish? Most of the histories of the day say it was because he failed to 
get promoted to the regular army, or was mortified because one younger 
than he, and whom he thought not so deserving as himself, was advanced 
before him. From all the most reliable sources, we gather the true rea- 
son was, that Girty found himself looked upon at Fort Pitt with suspi- 
cion because he was known to be a tory at heart, and under the influ- 
ence of the mischievous and notorious Dr. Connelly, of Virginia, who 
had not only laid claim to all Southwestern Pennsylvania as a part of 
Virginia, but had enforced said claims by a series of violent and out- 
rageous proceedings, rending the whole section into warring factions, 
and even seizing and occupying Fort Pitt itself. 

Be this as it may — and it is not at this late day of prime importance 
— Girty now headed his course for Detroit, and was captured by the 
Wyandots, but claimed by the Senecas as their prisoner, because he had 
once been adopted into their tribe. This claim, Leather Lips, a prom- 
inent and truculent old Huron chief, stoutly resisted, and the Mingoes 
were obliged to yield their point. On Girty's affirming that he had been 
badly treated at Fort Pitt because he was true to the King, and that 
being forced to leave the fort, he was now on his way to Detroit to join 
the British, he was released, and was soon after welcomed by the cruel 
Governor Hamilton, the "British Hair Buyer." 

Girty was now just in his element. Talking several Indian languages, 
and employed by Hamilton in the Indian department, he was sent back 
to Sandusky to assist the savages in their harassing marauds against our 
border, and soon arose to a very bad eminence among them. He had 
never lost his relish for the free, untamed life of the forest. He was a 
true Indian in all his habits, longings and ambitions, and, like all apos- 
tates on whom the door of return is forever closed, soon became noted 
for his hate and desperate activity. He outdid the redskins themselves 
in the fierceness and cruelty of his wrath. When not ruthlessly worry- 
ing and harassing the frontier by his sudden forays and scalpings and 
torturings, he was ever busy, with diabolical hate and activity, in planning 
the destruction of the Moravians. He was their inveterate foe, and 
finally made Pomoacon, the Half King of the Hurons, the instrument 
of their forced abandonment of their three peaceful and flourishing 
towns on the Muskingum, and their removal, just on the eve of the Win- 
ter of 1 781, to the inhospitable wilds and barrens about Sandusky.* 

*To show Girty's violence when in liquor, as also his hatred to the Moravians, we quote from their 
missionary, Heckewelder, who, after the destruction of their towns on the Muskingum, had been 
forcibly removed to the Sandusky. Girty, on departing south on a scalping raid, had ordered a 
Frenchman to drive the Moravian teachers "the same as if we were cattle, and never to make a halt 



Sketch of Simon Girty. 421 

Girty, however, was not all, or always bad. Many of the atrocities 
committed by his brothers, George and James, were falsely blamed on 
him. He was a savage by taste and education, and conformed to In- 
dian usages, but it is known that he was his own worst enemy. Unfor- 
tunately inheriting a love for rum, it became his master. At such times 
he was cruel, vindictive and relentless. When sober he was a far better 
and kinder man. 

Of Girty's personal courage, even to fool-hardiness, there is little 
question. He once had a quarrel with a Shawnee chief, caused, it is 
said, by some trade misunderstanding. While bandying words with 
each other, the Indian, by innuendo, questioned his opponent's courage. 
Girty instantly pointed to a half keg of powder, which happened to be 
at the camp, and snatching a fire-brand, called upon the chief to stand 
by him. The latter, at this strange hari-kari test of courage, hastily 
evacuated the premises. 

In the sketch of Simon Kenton, a notable instance of Girty's good- 
ness and kindness of heart is given at length. Through his importuni- 
ties also many prisoners were saved from death and torture. He was 
reported honest, and was careful to fulfill all his engagements. It was 
said of him that he once sold his horse rather than incur the odium of 
violating his promise. He was brave and determined, and it was his 
dearest wish that he might die in battle. Jonathan Alder, who was for 
many years a captive among the Indians, and had occasion to know the 
renegade well, said that Girty was a warm friend to many prisoners, and 
that he had known him to purchase, at his own expense, several boys 
who were prisoners, and take them to the British to be educated. Lyon, 
in his narrative of captivity, when a half-grown boy, says Girty was 
very kind to him, taking him on his knee and promising to have him 
well cared for. Mrs. Thomas Cunningham, of West Virginia — after 



even for the purpose of the women giving suckle to their children." This Lavallie would not do ; 
but treated the missionaries with great kindness, and kept them several weeks at Lower Sandusky, 
while a boat should be sent from Detroit for them. We now quote from Heckewelder, page 332 :— 
" We had become uneasy lest Girty should find us still here on his return from war. He did return 
and behaved like a madman on hearing that we were here, and that our conductor had disobeyed his 
orders. He flew at the Frenchman most furiously, striking at him, and threatening to split his head. 
He swore the most horrid oaths respecting us, and continued in that way until after midnight. 
His oaths were all to the purport that he would never leave the house until he had split our heads in 
two with his tomahawk, and made our brains stick to the walls of the room. He had somewhere 
procured liquor, and would, at every drink, renew his oaths, which he repeated until he fell asleep. 
Never before did any of us hear the like oaths, or know anybody to rave like him. He appeared like 
an host of evil spirits. He would sometimes come up to the bolted door between us and him, threat- 
ening to chop it to pieces, to get at us. No Indian we had ever seen drunk would have been a match 
for him. How we should escape the clutches of this white beast in human form no one could see ; 
nor how relieved from the hands of this wicked white savage, whose equal, we were led to believe, 
was (perhaps) not to be found among mankind." 



422 Our Western Border. 

seeing her oldest boy tomahawked and scalped, and the brains of her 
little daughter dashed out against a tree, all in her very presence, was 
carried into captivity. She suffered untold agony during her long 
march to the Indian town, her only nourishment for ten days being the 
head of a wild turkey and a few paw-paws ; but, after a long absence, 
she was returned to her husband through the intercession of Simon 
Girty, who, happening to pass her way, ransomed and sent her home. 

And finally, as Colonel Thomas Marshall was floating down the Ohio 
in an ark, he was hailed by a man who said he was James Girty, and 
that he had been stationed there by his brother Simon to warn all boats 
of the danger from decoys. The Indians, James said, had become 
jealous of Simon, who deeply regretted the injury which he had inflicted 
aipon his countrymen, and who wished to be restored to their society. 
Every effort would be made, by white men and children, to entice boats 
ashore; but they must keep the middle of the river, and steel their 
hearts against every attempt. This warning, by whatever motive, was 
of service to many families. Thus much of Simon Girty, and some 
things to his credit, showing that he was not always the inhuman mon- 
ster which old histories and traditions have painted him. 

Girty Marries the Beautiful Kate Malott. 

We must consider Girty, then, as having a dual character, and as the 
old Greek, sure of justice, appealed "from King Philip drunk to King 
Philip sober," a like appeal, in Girty's case, would probably have had 
the same effect. There was, besides, for many years, a streak of 
romance running through the renegade's life not yet known to the public 
or to history. It was communicated to us by Lyman C. Draper, a col- 
lector and historian of perfect reliability. 

In March, 1779, a family of French descent, by the name of Malott, 
left Maryland for Kentucky. At Fort Redstone, on the Monongahela, 
where it was general for all emigrants to take arks or boats for Ken- 
tucky, they were joined by some other families, and embarked in two 
boats, one of them, a stock boat, in front, under charge of Peter 
Malott, the head of the family. Mrs. Malott and her five children were 
in the rear boat, commanded by Captain Reynolds, an officer of the 
Revolution. Mrs. Reynolds and seven children, Mrs. Hardin and two 
children, and others, were also in this boat. 

This Reynolds boat was attacked and captured by some twenty-five 
Indians of mixed tribes at the head of Long Reach, some forty miles 
below Wheeling. Captain Reynolds had been shot dead in the first on- 
set, and another man and a child of Mrs. Hardin were also killed. The 



Girty Marries the Beautiful Kate Malott. 423 

Indians secured much booty and no less than nineteen prisoners, whom 
they took, some to the Delaware and some to the Wyandot towns. The 
Malott stock boat was not captured. Mrs. Reynolds, being subse- 
quently taken to Detroit, succeeded, by her energy and the influence of 
Colonel De Peyster — the Governor after Hamilton's capture by General 
Clarke — in collecting her scattered family and returning East. Catha- 
rine Malott, the oldest daughter of the family, was in her fifteenth year 
at the time of the capture, and was carried to one of the Shawnee 
towns on Mad river. Simon Girty seems to have come across her on 
one of his circuits among the various Indian towns, and fell violently 
in love with her. This was about three years after her capture, and 
while her mother was known by Girty to be in Detroit for the purpose 
of collecting her family from captivity. Indeed, it is probable that 
Girty had been employed by Mrs. Malott to trace up, if possible, her 
lost children. However this may be, he found Catharine now grown 
and very pretty, and adopted into an Indian family. They refused to 
give the girl up, but on Girty's promising to bring her back after she 
had seen her mother in Detroit, he succeeded in getting Catharine 
away. Once in Detroit, he married her, with, it is probable, the 
mother's approval. One of the captives said she was "a. right pretty 
girl; reported to be the prettiest in Detroit." They had several chil- 
dren, and she survived her husband many years, and died at a very ad- 
vanced age. Peter Malott, the father, returned to Maryland, and 
Draper thinks married again, never having succeeded in getting his 
captured family together. 

For some few years after this marriage Girty was comparatively quiet, 
attending to the cares of his growing family, and largely occupied in 
trading with the savages. He lived at various localities among them, 
chiefly at Girty's Point, on the Maumee river, five miles above Napo- 
leon. Quite a number of places in Ohio, however, bear his name. The 
ill-fated expeditions of General Harmar, in 1790, and of General St. 
Clair, in 1791, found him busy with his old associates, Elliott and Mc- 
Kee, in the council and in the field, and wielding much influence among 
the savage tribes. At their grand council, held after St. Clair's disas- 
trous and overwhelming defeat, Girty was the only white man permitted 
to be present, and his voice and influence were for continuing the war. 

At St. Clair's defeat he was present, and took an active part, receiv- 
ing a severe sabre cut on the head. He is said to have found and 
recognized the body of General Richard Butler, second in command. 

At another grand Indian conference, held in 1793, Girty still thun- 
dered for war, and was especially active in organizing and marshaling 
the forces against Wayne in 1793-4. He was present at the decisive 



4:24 Our Western Border. 

battle of the Fallen Timbers, fought the same year, which forever 
crushed the power of the confederate Indian tribes, and ended in the 
treaty of Greenville, which at last brought peace. Girty now sold his 
trading establishment on the St. Mary river, located at a place called 
Girty's town — now St. Marys — and went back to Detroit, where his 
growing family lived. 

He seemed to be perpetually haunted by the fear of falling into Ameri- 
can hands; and when Detroit was finally yielded by the British, in 1796, 
and the boats, laden with our troops, came in sight, it is said he could 
not wait for the return of the ferryboat, but plunged his horse into the 
Detroit river and made for the Canada shore, pouring out a volley of 
curses, as he rode up the opposite bank, upon the American officers and 
troops. 

He now settled quietly down on a farm near Maiden, Canada, on the 
Detroit river, about fifteen miles below the city, and we hear no more 
of him until the war of 181 2. During the invasion of Canada he fol- 
lowed the course of the British retreat, but returned to his family at 
Maiden, and died in 181 5, aged near seventy years, and totally blind. 
William Walker saw him at Maiden in 181 3, and describes him as being 
broad across the chest, with strong, round, compact limbs, and appa- 
rently endowed by nature with great powers of endurance. 

Mr. D. M. Workman, of Ohio, says: "In 181 3 I went to Maiden 
and put up at a hotel kept by a Frenchman. I noticed in the bar-room 
a gray-headed and blind old man. The landlady, who was his daughter, 
a woman of about thirty years of age, inquired of me, ' Do you know 
who that is? ' pointing to the old man. On my replying * No;' she re- 
plied, ' It is Simon Girty.' He had then been blind about four years. 
In 18 1 5 I returned to Maiden, and ascertained that Girty had died a 
short time previous. Girty was a man of extraordinary strength, power 
of endurance, courage and sagacity. He was in height about five feet 
ten inches, and strongly made." 

Girty took to hard drinking some time after his marriage, and for 
several years he and his wife lived apart. Draper visited Canada and 
saw one of Girty's daughters and some of the grandchildren, as also 
other descendants of the Malott family, which likewise settled in West- 
ern Canada, and he writes us of them and of Girty, as follows : "They were 
fine, worthy people, and some of the females quite attractive and intel- 
ligent. Our border histories have given only the worst side of Girty's 
character. He had redeeming traits. He was uneducated — only a lit- 
tle above the average Indian, I infer. He did what he could, unless 
infuriated by liquor, when, as Heckewelder states, he was boisterous, 
and probably dangerous. He certainly befriended Simon Kenton, and 



Girty Marries the Beautiful Kate Malott. 425 

tried to save Crawford, but could not. In the latter case he had to dis- 
semble somewhat with the Indians, and a part of the time appear in 
their presence as if not wishing to befriend him, when he knew he could 
not save him, and did not dare to shoot him, as he himself was threat- 
ened with a similar fate." 

As to the stories told of Girty's heartless behavior at the prolonged 
tortures of his old friend Crawford, we are, like Draper, very skeptical. 
In our account of Crawford's sufferings, we have given what we could 
gather. Of Girty's courage and even recklessness there is ample testi- 
mony. 



426 Our Western Border. 



CAPTAIN SAM. BRADY, THE DARING PARTISAN LEADER. 

He knew each pathway through the wood, 

Each dell unwarmed by sunshine's gleam ; 
Where the brown pheasant led her brood, 

Or wild deer came to drink the stream. 

Who in the West has not heard of Samuel Brady, the Captain of the 
Spies, and of his wonderful exploits and hairbreadth escapes ? A soldier 
from the first drum-tap of the Revolution, he commenced his service at 
Boston. He was in all the principal engagements of the war until the 
battle of Monmouth, when he was promoted to a captaincy and ordered 
to Fort Pitt to join General Broadhead, with whom he became a great 
favorite, and was almost constantly employed in partisan scouting. In 
'78 his brother, and in '79 his father, were cruelly killed by Indians. 
This made Captain Brady an Indian killer, and he never changed his 
business. The redman never had a more implacable foe, or a more re- 
lentless tracker. Being as well skilled in woodcraft as any Indian of 
them all, he would trail them to their very lairs with all the fierceness 
and tenacity of the sleuth hound. We could fill pages with the mere 
mention of his lone vigils, his solitary wanderings, and his terrible 
revenges. His hate was undying; it knew no interval— his revenge 
no surfeit. Day and night, Summer and Winter were all the same, if it 
gave him chance to feed fat his ancient grudge. 

He commenced his scouting service about 1780, when he was only 
twenty-four years old, having been born in Shippensburg in 1756. A 
bolder or braver man never drew sword or pulled trigger. During the 
whole of the fierce, protracted and sanguinary war which ravaged the 
western border from 1785 to 1794, he was a dread terror to the savages 
and a tower of strength to the white settlers. His ubiquitous presence, 
backed by the band of devoted followers, who ever stepped in his foot- 
prints, was felt as a security everywhere. His the step that faltered not; 
his the eye that quailed not, and his the heart that knew never the 
meaning of fear. Many a mother has quieted the fears and lulled to 
sleep her infant family by the assurance that the rapid Allegheny, or the 
broad Ohio, the dividing lines between the whites and Indians, was safe 
because he there kept watch and ward. 

But to begin at the beginning. When the company of volunteer rifle- 
men, of which Brady was a member, lay in the "Leaguer of Boston," 
frequent skirmishes took place. On one occasion, Lowden was ordered 




Capt. Sam. Brady, the Daring Partisan Leader. 

—ixepage 426. 



Captain Brady Makes a Scout to Upper Sandusky. 427 

to select some able-bodied men, and wade to an island, when the tide 
was out, and drive out some cattle belonging to the British. He con- 
sidered Brady too young for this service, and left him out of his selec- 
tion; but, to the Captain's astonishment, Brady was the second man on 
the island, and behaved most gallantly. On another occasion, he was 
sitting on a fence with his Captain, viewing the British works, when a 
cannon ball struck the fence under them. Brady was first up, 'caught 
the Captain in his arms and raised him, saying, with great composure, 
"We are not hurt, Captain." Many like instances of his coolness and 
courage happened while the army lay at Boston. 

At the battle of Princeton he was under Colonel Hand, of Lancaster, 
and had advanced too far; they were nearly surrounded — Brady cut a 
horse out of a team, got his Colonel on, jumped on behind him, and both 
made their escape. At the massacre at Paoli, Brady had been on guard, 
and had laid down with his blanket buckled round him. The British 
were nearly on them before the sentinel fired. Brady had to run; he 
tried to get clear of his blanket coat, but could not. As he jumped a 
post and rail fence, a British soldier struck at him with his bayonet and 
pinned the blanket to the rail, but so near the edge that it tore out. 
He dashed on — a horseman overtook him and ordered him to stop. 
Brady wheeled, shot him down and ran on. He got into a small swamp 
in a field. He knew of no person but one being in it beside himself; 
but in the morning there were fifty-five, one of whom was a Lieutenant. 
They compared commissions; Brady's was the oldest; he took the com- 
mand and marched them to headquarters. 

Captain Brady Makes a Scout to Upper Sandusky. 

In 1780 the Indians became very troublesome to the settlements 
about Pittsburgh, and Washington, knowing well that the most effect- 
ual way to deal with them was to strike them in their very homes, 
ordered Colonel Broadhead, of Fort Pitt, to dispatch a suitable person 
to their towns to ascertain their strength and resources. Broadhead sent 
for Brady, showed him Washington's letter, and a draft or map of the 
country he must traverse ; very defective, as Brady afterwards discov- 
ered. Selecting a few soldiers, and four Chickasaw Indians as guides, 
Brady crossed the Allegheny and was at once in the enemy's country. 
Brady was versed in all the wiles of Indian "strategic," and, dressed 
in the full war dress of an Indian warrior, and well acquainted with 
their language, he led his band in safety near to the Sandusky towns with- 
out seeing a hostile Indian. But his Chickasaws now deserted. This 
was alarming, for it was probable they had gone over to the enemy. 



428 Our Western Border. 

However, he determined to proceed. With a full knowledge of the 
horrible death that awaited him if taken prisoner, he passed on, until 
he stood beside the town on the bank of the river. 

His first care was to provide a secure place of concealment for his 
men. When this was effected, having selected one man as the com- 
panion of his future adventures, he waded the river to an island par- 
tially covered with driftwood, opposite the town, where he concealed 
himself and comrade for the night. The next morning a dense fog 
spread over the hill and dale, town and river ; all was hid from Brady's 
eyes, save the logs and brush around him. About eleven o'clock it 
cleared off, and afforded him a view of an immense number of Indians 
engaged in the amusement of the race ground. They had just returned 
from Virginia or Kentucky, with some very fine horses. One gray 
horse in particular attracted his notice. He won every race until near 
the evening, when, as if envious of his speed, two riders were placed on 
him and thus he was beaten. The starting ^post was only a few rods 
above where Brady lay, and he had a pretty fair chance of enjoying the 
amusement, without the risk of losing anything by betting on the race. 

He made such observations through the day as was in his power, waded 
out from the island at night, collected his men, went to an Indian camp 
he had seen as he came out ; the squaws were still there, took them 
prisoners, and continued his march homeward. The map furnished by 
General Broadhead was found defective, the distance represented being 
much less than it really was. The provisions and ammunition of the 
men were exhausted by the time they reached the Big Beaver, on their 
return. Brady shot an otter, but could not eat it. The last load was 
in his rifle. They arrived at an old encampment, and found plenty of 
strawberries, with which they appeased their hunger. 

Having discovered a deer track, Brady followed it, telling the men he 
would perhaps get a shot at it. He had gone but a few rods when he 
saw the deer standing broadside to him. He raised his rifle and 
attempted to fire ; but it flashed in the pan, and he had not a priming 
of powder. He sat down, picked the touch-hole, and then started on. 
After going a short distance the path made a bend, and he saw before 
him a large Indian on horseback, with a white child before and its 
mother behind him on the horse, and a number of warriors marching 
in the rear. His first impulse was to shoot the Indian on horseback; 
but, as he raised his rifle, he observed the child's head to roll with the 
motion of the horse. It was fast asleep, and tied to the Indian. He 
stepped behind the root of a tree, and waited until he could shoot 
without danger to the child or its mother. 

When he considered the chance certain, he fired, and the Indian, 



A Conflict at Brady's Bend. 429 

child and mother, all fell from the horse. Brady called to his men, 
with a voice that made the forest ring, to surround the Indians, and 
give them a general fire. He sprang to the fallen Indian's powder horn, 
but could not pull it off. Being dressed like an Indian, the woman 
thought he was one, and said, "Why did you shoot your brother !" He 
caught up the child, saying, "Jenny Stoop, I am Captain Brady; fol- 
low me, and I will secure you and your child." He caught her hand 
in his, carrying the child under the other arm, and dashed into the brush. 
Many guns were fired at him but no ball touched, and the Indians, 
dreading an ambuscade, were glad to make off. The next day he ar- 
rived at Fort MTntosh, with the woman and her child. His men had 
got there before him. They had heard his war whoop, and knew they 
were Indians he had encountered, but having no ammunition, had taken 
to their heels and run off. 

A Conflict at "Brady's Bend" — His Adventure with Phouts. 

The incursions of the Indians had become so frequent, and their out- 
rages so alarming, that it was thought advisable to retaliate upon them 
the injuries of war, and to carry into the country occupied by them the 
same system with which they had visited the settlements. For this pur- 
pose an adequate force was provided, under the immediate command of 
Broadhead, the command of the advance guard of which was confided to 
Captain Brady. 

The troops proceeded up the Allegheny river, and had arrived near 
the mouth of Redbank Creek, now known by the name of Brady's 
Bend, without encountering an enemy. Brady and his rangers were 
some distance in front of the main body, as their duty required, when 
they suddenly discovered a war party of Indians approaching them. 
Relying on the strength of the main body, and its ability to force the 
Indians to retreat, and anticipating, as Napoleon did in the battle with 
the Mamelukes, that, when driven back, they would return by the same 
route they had advanced on, Brady permitted them to proceed without 
hindrance, and hastened to seize a narrow pass, higher up the river, 
where the rocks, nearly perpendicular, approached the river, and a few 
determined men might successfully combat superior numbers. 

In a short time the Indians encountered the main body under Broad- 
head, and were driven back. In full and swift retreat they pressed on 
to gain the pass between the rocks and the river, but it was occupied 
by Brady and his rangers, who failed not to pour into their flying col- 
umns a most destructive fire. Many were killed on the bank, and many 
more in the stream. Cornplanter, afterwards the distinguished Chief of 



430 Our Western Border. 

the Senecas, but then a young man, saved himself by swimming. The 
celebrated war chief of this tribe, Bald Eagle, was of the number slain 
on this occasion. 

After the savages had crossed the river, Brady was standing on the 
bank wiping his rifle, when an Indian, exasperated at the unexpected 
defeat and disgraceful retreat of his party, and supposing himself now 
safe from the well-known and abhorred enemy of his race, commenced 
abusing him in broken English, calling Brady and his men cowards, 
squaws, and the like, and putting himself in such attitudes as he proba- 
bly thought would be most expressive of his utter contempt of them. 
When Brady had cleaned his rifle and loaded it, he sat down by an ash 
sapling, and, taking sight about three feet above the Indian, fired. As 
the rifle cracked, the Indian was seen to shrink a little and then limp 
off. When the main army arrived, a canoe was manned, and Brady 
and a few men crossed to where the Indian had been seen. They found 
blood on the ground, and had followed it but a short distance when the 
Indian jumped up, struck his breast and said, " I am a man." It was 
Brady's wish to take him prisoner, without doing him further harm. 
The Indian continuing to repeat, "I am a man" — "Yes," said an 
Irishman, who was along, "By St. Patrick, you're a purty boy," and, 
before Brady could arrest the blow, sunk his tomahawk into the Indian's 
brain. 

The army moved onward, and after destroying all the Indians' corn, 
and ravaging the Kenjua flats, returned to Pittsburgh. 

Shortly after Brady's return from Sandusky, he proposed to Phouts — 
a Dutchman of uncommon strength and activity and well acquainted 
with the woods — to go scouting up the Allegheny. Phouts jumped at 
this, and, raising himself on tip-toe, and bringing his heels hard down 
on the ground, by way of emphasis, said: "By dunder und lightnin', 
Gaptain, I would rader go mit you as to any of de finest weddins in dis 
guntry !" 

Next morning they stealthily left the fort, traveled all day, and dis- 
covered smoke, denoting Indians. Brady desired Phouts to stay still 
while he would reconnoitre, but the irrepressible Dutchman refused, 
saying, " No, by dunder, I will see him, too." So they crept up and 
discovered only an old Indian by the fire. Phouts was for shooting 
him at once, but Brady prevented, as he judged that those absent from 
the camp were quite numerous. Next morning he fell upon a large 
trail of Indians, about a day or more old, so Brady determined to go 
back and take the old savage prisoner, and carry him back to Pitts- 
burgh. The Indian was lying on his back, his faithful dog by his side. 
Brady now silently crept forward, tomahawk in hand, until within a 



Saves Himself by a Shrewd Device. 431 

few feet of the Indian, when, uttering a fierce yell, he made a spring 
like a panther and clutched the Indian hard and fast by the throat. 
The old fellow struggled violently at first, but seeing he was held with 
firm and tenacious grip, he gracefully submitted to the inevitable. The 
dog behaved very civilly, uttering merely a few low growls. Phouts 
now came up and the prisoner was tied. When the Indian found he 
was treated kindly and was to be carried to Pittsburgh, he showed them 
a canoe, and all embarked and encamped all night at the mouth of the 
little run. 

Next morning Brady started to get some "jerk" they had hung up, 
leaving Phouts in charge of the prisoner. The Indian complained to 
the Dutchman that the cords hurt his wrists very much, and he, being a 
tender and kind-hearted fellow, took off the cords entirely, at which 
the redskin appeared very grateful. While, however, Phouts was busy 
with something else, the wary savage sprang to the tree against which 
Phouts' gun stood leaning, and leveled at the Dutchman's breast. The 
trigger was pulled, but fortunately the bullet whistled harmlessly past, 
taking off part of Phouts' bullet pouch. One stroke of Phouts' toma- 
hawk settled the old Indian forever, nearly severing the head from the 
body. 

Brady, hearing the report of the rifle and the yell of Phouts, hastily 
ran back, where he found the Dutchman astride of the Indian's body, 
calmly examining the rent in his own pouch. "In the name of 
Heaven," said Brady, "what have you done?" " Yust look, Gab- 
tain," answered the fearless Phouts, "vat dis d — d red rascal vas apout; " 
holding up to view the hole in his belt. The Indian's scalp was then 
taken off, they got into their canoe and returned safely to Pittsburgh. 

Saves Himself by a Shrewd Device— A Wholesale Kill. 

Beaver Valley and the region about Fort Mcintosh was one of Brady's 
famous scouting grounds. In one of his trapping and hunting excur- 
sions thereabouts, he was surprised and taken prisoner by a party of In- 
dians who had closely watched his movements. To have shot or toma- 
hawked him would have been but a small gratification to that of satiat- 
ing their revenge by burning him at a slow fire, in the presence of all 
the Indians of their village. He was therefore taken alive to their en- 
campment, on the west bank of the Beaver river, about a mile and a 
half from its mouth. After the usual exultations and rejoicings at the 
capture of a noted enemy, and causing him to run the gauntlet, a fire 
was prepared, near which Brady was placed after being stripped, and 
with his arms unbound. Previous to tying him to the stake, a large 



432 Our Western Border. 

circle was formed around of Indian men, women and children, dancing 
and yelling, and uttering all manner of threats and abuses that their 
small knowledge of the English language could afford. 

The prisoner looked on these preparations for death and on his sav- 
age foe with a firm countenance and a steady eye, meeting all their 
threats with Indian fortitude. In the midst of their dancing and rejoic- 
ing, a squaw of one of their chiefs came near him, with a child in her 
arms. Quick as thought, and with intuitive prescience, he snatched it 
from her and threw it toward the fire. Horror stricken at the sudden 
outrage, the Indians simultaneously rushed to rescue the infant from the 
flames. In the midst of this confusion, Brady darted from the circle, 
overturning all that came in his way, and rushed into the adjacent 
thicket, with the Indians yelling at his heels. He ascended the steep 
side of a hill amidst a shower of bullets, and darting down the opposite 
declivity, secreted himself in the deep ravines and laurel thickets that 
abound for several miles to the west. His knowledge of the country, 
and wonderful activity, enabled him to elude his enemies, and reach the 
settlements in safety. Another version of this event furnished us, 
makes it the squaw herself that the Captain pushed on the fire. 

From one of Brady's spies, who, in 1851, had not answered to the 
roll-call of death — one who served with him three years, during the 
most trying and eventful period of his life — De Hass has gathered 
the following incident : On one of their scouting expeditions into the 
Indian country, the spies, consisting at that time of sixteen men, en- 
camped for the night at a place called "Big Shell Camp." Toward 
morning, one of the guard heard the report of a gun, and immediately 
communicating the fact to his commander, a change of position was 
ordered. Leading his men to an elevated point, the Indian camp was 
discovered almost beneath them. Cautiously advancing in the direc- 
tion of the camp, six Indians were discovered standing around the fire, 
while several others lay upon the ground, apparently asleep. Brady or- 
dered his men to wrap themselves in their blankets and lie down, while 
he kept watch. Two hours thus passed without anything material oc- 
curring. 

As day began to appear, Brady roused his men and posted them side 
by side, himself at the end of the line. When all were in readiness, 
the commander was to touch, with his elbow, the man who stood next 
to him, and the communication was to pass successively to the farthest 
end. The orders then were, the moment the last man was touched, he 
should shoot, which was to be the signal for a general discharge. With 
the first faint ray of light rose six Indians, and stood around the fire. 
With breathless expectation the whites waited for the remainder to rise, 



Curing a "Sick Gun." 433 

but failing, and apprehending a discovery, the Captain moved his el- 
bow, and the next instant the wild woods rang with the shrill report of 
the rifles of the spies. Five of the six Indians fell dead, but the sixth, 
screened behind a tree, escaped. The camp being large, it was deemed 
unsafe to attack it further, and a retreat was immediately ordered. 

Soon after the above occurrence, in returning from a similar expedi- 
tion, and when about two miles from the mouth of Yellow Creek, at a 
place admirably adapted for an ambuscade, a solitary Indian stepped 
forward and fired upon the advancing company. Instantly, on firing, 
he retreated toward a deep ravine, into which the savage hoped to lead 
his pursuers. But Brady detected the trick, and, in a voice of thunder, 
ordered his men to tree. No sooner had this been done, than the con- 
cealed foe rushed forth in great numbers, and opened upon the whites 
a perfect storm of leaden hail. The brave spies returned the fire with 
spirit and effect ; but as they were ' likely to be overpowered by superior 
numbers, a retreat was ordered to the top of the hill, and thence con- 
tinued until out of danger. The whites lost one man in this engage- 
ment, and two wounded. The Indian loss is supposed to have been 
about twenty, in killed and wounded. 

Curing a "Sick Gun" — A Brace at a Single Shot. 

. Captain Brady possessed all the elements of a brave and successful 
scout. Like Marion, "he consulted with his men respectfully, heard 
them patiently, weighed their suggestions, and silently made his own 
conclusions: They knew his determination only by his actions." Brady 
had but few superiors as a woodsman : he would strike out into the heart 
of the wilderness, and, with no guide but the sun by day and the stars 
by night, or, in their absence, then by such natural marks as the bark 
and tops of trees, he would move on steadily in a direct line tow*ard his 
point of destination. He always avoided beaten paths and the borders 
of streams, and never was known to leave his track behind him. In 
this manner he eluded pursuit and defied detection. He was often 
vainly hunted by his own men, and was more likely to find them than 
they him. 

When Brady was once out on a forest excursion with some friendly 
Indians killing game for the Fort Pitt garrison, his tomahawk slipped 
and severely wounded his knee, obliging him to camp out for some time 
with the Indians. One of these, who had taken the name of Wilson, 
Brady saw one evening coming home in a great hurry and kicking his 
squaw. Without saying a word he then began to unbreech his gun. 
The squaw went away, and returned soon after with some roots, which, 
28 



434 Our Western Border 

after washing clean, she put into a kettle to boil. While boiling,Wilson 
corked up the muzzle of his gun and stuck the breech into the kettle, 
and continued it there until the plug flew out of the muzzle. He then 
took it out and put it into the stock. Brady, knowing the Indians were 
very "superstitious," did not speak to him until he saw him wiping his 
gun. He then called to him, and asked what was the matter. Wilson 
came to the Captain and said that his gun had been very sick, that she 
could not shoot; he had been just giving her a vomit, and she was now 
well. Whether the vomit helped the gun or only strengthened Wilson's 
nerves, the Captain could not tell, but he averred that Wilson killed ten 
deer the next day. 

Near Beaver, Pa., (formerly Fort Mcintosh,) exist three localities, 
respectively called Brady's Run, Brady's Path and Brady's Hill. The 
following incident, furnished us, ended on the last. The Captain started 
from Pittsburgh with a few picked men on a scout towards the Sandusky 
villages. On their return they were hotly pursued, and all killed but 
the leader. He succeeded in getting back as far as the hill now called 
after him, not wounded, but nearly dead with fatigue. He knew well 
he was being relentlessly tracked, and that if he did not resort to some 
shrewd Indian trick, he would be lost. After cudgeling his brains awhile 
he hit upon the following: 

Selecting a large tree lately blown down, and having a very thick, 
leafy end, he walked back very carefully in his tracks for a few hundred 
yards, then turned about and again trod in his old steps as far as the 
tree. This was to insure the Indians following him thither. He then 
walked along the trunk and snugly ensconced himself among the dense 
frondage at its end. Here he sat with rifle, specially loaded, all ready 
for duty. He counted upon his pursuers tracking him that far, and 
then, seeing no further trace of him, and it being at the end of a long 
day's tramp, that they would squat on the tree in a line for consultation. 
Nor was he disappointed. After he had been thus secreted for some 
time, and was gaining a fine rest, three Indians, with eyes bent earth- 
wards like nosing hounds, came up in hot pursuit. Coming to the tree, 
they closely examined for the trail beyond, but not finding any, they 
were nonplused, and sat down t© confab together. 

The waiting scout now raised his long, black, unerring tube, drew a 
careful bead for his line shot, when flash! crack! and down tumbled 
one of his quarry dead and the other two wounded. With a silent 
chuckle at the success of his wile, Brady leaped to the encounter with 
clubbed rifle, and, after a brief struggle, succeeded in killing both sav- 
ages. Quietly securing the whole three scalps, he made his way back 
to the fort. They had to hunt in gangs who would take Brady. 



The Lone Hunter's Revenge. 435 



The Lone Hunter's Revenge — A Dread Holocaust. 

At another time, about the close of the Revolution, Brady started 
with two tried companions — Thomas Bevington and Benjamin Biggs — 
from Fort Mcintosh to Fort Pitt. They debated for some time which . 
side of the Ohio they would take, but finally selected the northern, 
or Logstown shore, along which ran the beaten Indian trail. Moving' 
rapidly forward they came to where Sewickley now stands, but where at 
that time was only the solitary cabin of a hunter named Albert Gray — 
one of that roving, dare-devil, wild-turkey breed, that must be always 
a little in advance of outposts. 

« Upon approaching this cabin, Brady suddenly came upon "Indian 
sign," and bidding his men crouch down, went ahead to reconnoitre. 
In a short time he heard a noise to one side, and beheld Gray himself 
coming along on horseback, with a deer laid across behind. Brady 
being dressed and painted, as usual, like an Indian, had to wait till the 
hunter was abreast, when he suddenly sprang forth and jerked Gray 
from his horse, saying hurriedly, as the other offered fierce resistance, 
"Don't strike; I am Captain Brady! for God's sake keep quiet!" 
The twain now stealthily advanced, and to their horror saw the ruins of 
Gray's little cabin smoking in the distance. It was as Brady feared. 
The savages had been at their hellish work. Gray's feelings may be 
imagined. Unrecking of the danger, he madly rushed forward, rifle in 
hand, more cautiously followed by the ranger. The ruins were care- 
fully examined, but finding no bodies, it was concluded that the whole 
family were made captive. Not an instant to be lost ! The retreating 
trail was broad and fresh, denoting a large party of Indians. The two 
lurking scouts were now rejoined, and an eager, anxious conference 
followed. One advised to go to Fort Pitt and the other to Fort Mcin- 
tosh, about equidistant, for aid, but Brady said, " Come ! Follow 
me!" 

The pursuit was commenced at two P. M. Brady was a thorough 
woodsman, and knew the "lay" of that country, with its ravines, points 
and short cuts, better than the redskins themselves. Sure, by the tread 
of the trail, that the marauders were making for Big Beaver ford, he so 
shaped his course as to intercept, or, failing in that, to overtake them 
at this point. Right as a trivet; for on approaching the river he found 
their plain trail, making, as Brady supposed, for a wild, secluded glen 
through which a stream, now known as Brady's Run, brawled its devi- 
ous way. 

A close inspection and study of the traces indicated a party of at 



436 Our Western Border. 

least a dozen. The odds were very large, but the anguish and impa- 
tience of the bereaved husband and father were so great that a sudden 
night attack was resolved upon. Secreting themselves, therefore, they 
patiently bided their time until dusk, when, crossing the Beaver, they 
entered the savage and sequestered ravine on the other side, and soon 
descried — right beside a famous spring — the camp fire of the cruel kid- 
nappers. The unrecking Indians were at their evening meal, the cap- 
tives — among whom was a strange woman and two children beside 
Gray's — sitting apart by themselves. The sight of his" wife and chil- 
dren made Gray's heart thump, and he was like a bloodhound held in 
leash. But Brady sternly rebuked his impatience, and firmly restrained 
him. Their only chance for success was to wait until the reds were 
asleep. If evil had been intended to the captives, it would have bee» 
inflicted before that. They must trust only to knife and tomahawk, 
and must all crawl to the side of the sleeping savages, each man select- 
ing his victim. 

And now the fire has nearly died out, and the Indian camp is at rest. 
No watch dog there to betray the four scouts, who, making no more 
noise than their own shadows, draw themselves, like so many serpents, 
slowly but surely forward. A branch suddenly snaps beneath the knee 
of Biggs ! Not much of a noise, but loud and distinct enough 
to cause one of the swarthy sons of the forest to spring to a sitting po- 
sition, and — with head bent in direction of the alarm, and with ear in- 
tensely attent to the slightest sound — to listen, listen, listen. The four 
avengers lay prone on the grass, their hands on their knife handles and 
their hearts beating like muffled drums. The strain was truly dread- 
ful, but perfect silence is maintained — no sound but the faint chirp Si 
a wood cricket — so delicate that scarce could anything live between it 
and silence. 

The dusky statue, his suspicions at length lulled, gives the dying 
embers a stir, and, with a sleepy yawn, sinks again to slumber. He has 
thus lighted his own and his companions' way to death, for when all was 
again quiet, a low cluck from Brady gives the signal of advance. 
Noiselessly as rattlers, each of the four drags himself alongside of a 
sleeping savage, a tomahawk in each right hand and a knife between the 
teeth. The four gleaming instruments of vengeance are now suspended 
above the unconscious sleepers, and at another low cluck from Brady, 
a hail of murderous blows descends. 

What a contrast now ! the whole camp is a scene of the direst confu- 
sion and alarm. The remaining savages leap to their feet in a vain en- 
deavor to escape the pursuing blades. Every one is sooner or later dis- 
patched. The captives at first fled in alarm, but finding preservers at 



Tracked by a Dog. 437 

hand, soon returned and were restored to their friends. The spring by 
the side of which the Indians camped was afterwards, in memory of 
this swift retribution and dreadful tragedy, called the "Bloody Spring/' 

Tracked by a Dog — An Indian Caaip Attacked. 

Once on returning from a scout, Brady was keeping a sharp lookout 
in expectation of being trailed, and taking every precaution to avoid 
pursuit, such as keeping on the driest ridges and walking on logs when- 
ever they suited his course, he found he was followed by Indians. His 
practiced eye would occasionally discover in the distance, an Indian 
hopping to or from a tree, or other screen, and advancing on his trail. 
After being satisfied of the fact, he stated it to his men and told them 
no Indian could thus pursue him, after the precautions he had taken, 
without having a dog on his track. "I will stop," said Brady, "and 
shoot the dog and then we can get along better." He selected the root 
of a tall chestnut tree which had fallen westward, for his place of am- 
bush. He walked from the west end of the tree or log to the east, and 
sat down in the pit made by the raising of the roots. He had not been 
long there when a small slut mounted the log at the west end and with 
her nose to the trunk approached him. Close behind her followed a 
plumed warrior. Brady had his choice. He preferred shooting the 
slut, which he did; she rolled off the log stone dead, and the warrior, 
with a loud whoop, sprang into the woods and disappeared. He was 
followed no further. 

On another occasion the Indians had made a destructive raid upon 
the Sewickley settlement and the Fort Pitt soldiers were out to chastise 
them. Brady took five men and his pet Indian and also went out, but 
in an entirely different direction. He crossed the Allegheny and pro- 
ceeded straight up that stream, rightly conjecturing that the invaders 
must have descended it in canoes. He, therefore, carefully examined 
the mouths of all the little streams on his way, and when opposite to the 
Mahoning, his sagacity was rewarded, for there lay the canoes drawn up 
to the bank. He instantly retreated down the river, and at night made 
a raft and crossed to the other side. He then proceeded up to the 
creek, and found that the Indians had in the meantime crossed it, as the 
canoes were now on the other side. 

The country at the mouth of the Mahoning being rough and the 
stream high, the current was very rapid, and it was not until after sev- 
eral ineffectual attempts, that the Brady party crossed, two or three 
miles from the mouth. Then they made a fire, dried their clothes, in- 
spected their arms, and moved towards the Indian camp, which was on 



438 Our Western Border. 

the second bank of the river. Brady placed his men at some distance 
on the lower bank. The Indians had captured a stallion, which they 
had fettered and turned to pasture on the lower bank. One of them, 
probably the owner, came down to him frequently, and troubled our 
party greatly. The horse, too, seemed desirous to keep with them, and 
it required considerable circumspection to avoid all intercourse with 
either. Brady became so provoked that he strongly desired to kill the 
Indian, but his calmer judgment prevented this, as likely to hazard a 
more important achievement. 

Brady being desirous to ascertain the numbers of the Indians and the 
position of the guns, crept up so close that the pet Indian would accom- 
pany him no further. While he was thus watching, an Indian rose and 
came so close to him that he could have touched him with his foot. 
However, he discovered nothing, and returned to his blanket and was 
soon asleep. 

Brady returned to his men and posted them, and in silence they 
awaited the light. When it appeared, the Indians arose and stood 
around their fires. When the signal was given, seven rifles cracked and 
five Indians fell dead. Brady gave his well-known war cry, and the 
party charged and secured all the guns. The remaining Indians in- 
stantly fled. One was pursued by the trace of his blood, but soon he 
seemed to have succeeded in staunching this. The pet Indian then gave 
the cry of a young wolf, which was answered by the wounded man, and 
the pursuit was renewed. A second time the wolf cry was given and 
answered, and the pursuit continued into a " wind-fall." 

Here the savage must have seen his pursuers, for he answered no 
more; but Brady, three weeks afterwards, found his body. Taking the 
horse and the plunder, the party returned to Pittsburgh, most of them 
descending in the Indian canoes. Three days after their return, the 
first detachment of seekers came in. They reported that they had fol- 
lowed the Indians closely, but that the latter had escaped in their 
canoes. ^ 

Brady told a Mr. Sumerall that he once started out alone from Wheel- 
ing for the purpose of bringing in prisoners, .not scalps. He was gone 
over two weeks and returned with five prisoners — an Indian and squaw, 
one boy and girl and a pappoose. He proceeded to two villages and se- 
creted himself in a swamp. He saw this family enter into a cabin lying 
on the outskirts of the village, and that night he broke open the door, 
told them who he was and that if they made one murmur he would slay 
them all. The warrior had heard of Brady and knew he would do as 
he said. 

Brady told them if they would go peaceably with him, he would take 



Brady's Leap Over the Cuyahoga River. 439 

them safely. He made the squaw carry the pappoose and drove the 
whole before him, traveling only by night. He was, as he expected to 
be, pursued, but he had selected his resting places so that he could reach 
them by wading up or down a stream to them, and as " water leaves no 
trail," he thus threw his pursuers off the track. Sumerall described to 
a Mr. Wadsworth the position of the two villages so accurately, that 
several years after the latter was traveling through that part of Ohio, and 
identified them as Greentown and Jerometown, between Mansfield and 
Wooster. 

" Brady's Leap " Over the Cuyahoga River. 

Brady's famed leap of twenty-five odd feet has been by many consid- 
ered a myth of romance, and by others has been located on Slippery 
Rock Creek, or in Beaver county, Pa., but we have received so much 
detailed information about this asserted leap, that we not only feel cer- 
tain it did take place, but that it was made by Brady over the Cuyahoga 
river. 

General L. V. Bierce, the aged and honored antiquarian of Akron, 
Ohio, writes us that there can be no doubt whatever not only as to the 
fact, but also as to the exact locality where it occurred. The place, he 
writes, has ever since borne the name of "Brady's Leap." The little 
lake in which he afterwards concealed himself, also bears to this day the 
name of Brady's Lake. The tradition of his fight with the savages on 
the south shore of that same lake, has been confirmed by skulls and a 
sword having been found there; and, moreover, he heard the story narra- 
ted by John Jacobs, Henry Stough and John Haymaker, all friends of 
Brady, and who asserted they had it from his own mouth. Haymaker 
and Wadsworth both measured the stream where the leap was made, and 
found it twenty -five feet across and some thirty feet above the water. 
Brady jumped from the west to the east side and caught the bushes on 
the steep, rocky cliff, slipping down some three or four feet before he 
recovered himself. 

But let us briefly and in substance narrate the story as told by Brady 
himself to Sumerall and by him to F. Wadsworth. There is a small 
lake in Portage county, Ohio, which still retains the name of Brady's 
Lake, and on the south side of which Brady had a severe battle. He 
had collected a company of twenty for a scout in the Sandusky country, 
but was waylaid by a much superior force at this lake, and his whole 
company cut off but himself and one more. Many years after, Wads- 
worth and Haymaker hunted up the precise locality, and by scraping 
away the earth and leaves, found many skulls and human bones and a 
basket -hilted sword. 



440 Our Western Border. 

At another time — the same occasion, according to some, when he threw 
either the chief's squaw or her child upon the fire built for himseif — 
Brady was hotly pursued from Sandusky for about a hundred miles. 
When he arrived near the Cuyahoga, (which stream he intended crossing 
at the "Standing Stone,") he found he was headed on all sides. He 
reached the stream at the rocky gorge where the contracted current 
rushes through, as it were, a narrow fissure in the rocks. Finding him- 
self thus hemmed in, Brady summoned all his energies for the mighty 
leap, and, as stated, caught by the bushes on the other side. When the 
pursuing savages saw the flying jump, they stood astonished, and then 
set up a terrific yell, three or four of them firing at him and wounding 
him in the leg. 

Very soon he found the Indians had crossed the river at the "Standing 
Stone," and were again in hot pursuit. When he arrived at the lake, 
finding the savages rapidly gaining on him, and his wound greatly 
troubling him, he concluded that unless he could secrete himself some- 
where, he was gone. Plunging into the water, he made his way to a 
place that was covered with lily pads or pond lilies. Fortunately he 
found that he could keep his face under water by breathing through the 
hollow stem of a weed. The Indians were not long after him. Fol- 
lowing his bloody trail, they tracked him into the water and made mi- 
nute search for him, but concluding that — severely wounded as he was — 
he had preferred drowning himself to losing his life and scalp at their 
hands, they finally gave up the search. Brady heard the Indians hunt- 
ing around all that day and part of the night, and then made good his 
escape. 

But Judge Moses Hampton, of Pittsburgh, gives us still other inform- 
ation, gathered not only from a personal visit to the locality of the leap, 
but from details derived from his father over fifty years ago. He writes 
us that the place where Brady leaped is at the Franklin Mills, Portage 
county, Ohio, within two miles of the Pittsburgh and Cleveland Rail- 
road. While there he was informed that the distance leaped was twen- 
ty-seven feet six inches. After the search for Brady had been aban- 
doned by the Indians, they returned to make a more careful survey of 
the spot of this extraordinary leap. 

''After carefully contemplating the whole scene," continues the 
Judge, "and being unwilling to admit (and this is a well-known trait 
of Indian character) that any white man can excel an Indian in feats 
of activity, they gradually came to the conclusion that he was not a 
man, but a turkey, and flew across, saying, 'he no man, he turkey; he 
flew/ and in order to commemorate that fact, they carved on a rock 
close by a rude representation of a turkey's foot. This , remained an 



Brady's Trial. 441 

object of curiosity to hundreds till the Summer of '56, when, being at 
the place, and finding the rock was about to be quarried, I obtained 
permission to have that part of the rock containing the carving of this 
turkey's foot cut out, which I brought home, and until recently held in 
my possession." 

Brady's Trial — Marriage to Drustlla Swearingen — His Death, 

At one time Brady had to stand a trial at Pittsburgh for the killing, 
in time of peace, of a gang of redskins. It was proved by him that 
these savages had been on a plundering and scalping raid among the 
Chartiers settlements, and that he, selecting some of his tried followers, 
had made a rapid pursuit, and waylaid them at the Ohio river- crossing 
near Beaver, thus justifying the attack as nothing but a swift punishment 
for flagrant acts of hostilities on the part of the savages. The trial 
created great excitement at the time, and was ably argued. Public senti- 
ment — which had been lately greatly excited by savage marauds — was 
overwhelmingly in favor of Brady, and he was triumphantly acquitted 

One of the minor incidents of the trial may be noticed, as exhibiting 
an Indian's idea of the paramount claims of friendship. Guyasutha, 
the famed Mingo Chief, was one of the witnesses for Brady, and swore 
very extravagantly in his favor — in fact, far more than Brady wanted. 
After the session was over, the bystanders gathered about the chief and 
twitted him considerably for his reckless swearing. ^ Drawing himself 
up with great dignity, and striking his brawny breast, the old chief 
gave this significant reply, " Why me no swear vely hard ? Guyasutha 
vely big friend to Captain Blady." 

Of Brady's private and social life it is very difficult to gather reliable 
particulars. About all these old Indian fighters there was so much of 
mystery and romance, and the feats attributed to them come to us with 
such changes of locality and incident, that it is hard to sift the true 
from the false. We have tried, in every instance, to get as near 
facts as possible, rejecting all that is doubtful or improbable. 
Lyman C. Draper, who is excellent authority, writes us that Brady 
married, about the year 1 786, Miss Drusilla Swearingen, daughter of 
Captain Van Swearingen — " Indian Van," he was called on the border 
— a gallant officer in. General Morgan's Rifle Corps. Drusilla was a 
very gentle and beautiful lady, and was sent East for her education, 
After the Revolution Captain Swearingen forted and settled where 
Wellsburg, West Va., now stands. 

It is a tradition that the gentle Drusilla was first wooed by Dr. Brad- 
ford, of Whiskey Insurrection notoriety, but Brady returned from a 



442 Our Western Border. 

long trip to Kentucky just in time to secure the coveted prize. Her 
father objected at first to his daughter's marrying Brady, on account of 
his roving and dangerous scout's life, but afterwards gave his consent. 
There was some foundation for this objection, for we have learned that 
the fond and lovely wife suffered untold miseries when her reckless hus- 
band was absent on distant scouts longer than the time agreed on for 
return. Dr. Darby once witnessed the meeting between husband and 
wife on such an occasion and states it as having been very affecting. 

The exact time of Captain Brady's death we have not yet been able 
to fix definitely. It was probably somewhere near the year 1800. 
Joseph Quigley, who lived in the Chartiers settlement, which Brady 
made his headquarters during a large portion of his bachelor life, says 
that he frequently saw Brady at his father's house, and that he looked 
much older than he really was. He walked quite lame from the wound 
received in his leg at the time he leaped the Cuyahoga river. He was 
also then pretty deaf, which he attributed to lying so long in the lake 
where he was chased after he made his famous leap. Quigley says that 
it was John Dillow and a man by the name of Stoup or Sprott, who 
were with Brady on the Indian excursion terminated by the leap, and 
that when he approached the lake he swam out to a log, surrounded by 
pond lilies and secreted himself beneath, but kept his face just above 
water. 

Brady spent the last years of his life at West Liberty, West Va., 
where he died. " After life's fitful fever he sleeps well." He left two 
sons, both now dead. His wife subsequently married again, moved to 
Tyler county, Va., and lived to a good old age. 



Andy Poe's Famous Fight with Bigfoot. 443 



ANDY POE'S FAMOUS FIGHT WITH BIGFOOT. 
The Only Reliable Account Ever Yet Published. 

The narrations of the famous combat between the brothers Poe and 
Bigfoot. are very much mixed up in the old border books, Doddridge 
and those, who follow him substituting the name of Adam for that of 
Andy, while others have made the date of the occurrence 1782, instead 
of 1 781. The subjoined detailed narrative of- the desperate fight, is 
from the pen of Simpson R. Poe, of Ravenna, O., who is a grandson of 
Andrew Poe, and who possesses the very tomahawk which Bigfoot 
wielded in the sanguinary encounter. We have every reason to believe 
this account the only correct one. 

Andrew Poe was born in Frederick county, Maryland, September 
30th, 1742. His father, George Poe, possessed a large property in that 
county, but died when Andrew was fourteen years of age. Soon after 
Andrew became of age, finding he would get none of his father's estate, 
he left his mother and brother, with whom he had still lived, and came 
to Pittsburgh, Pa., and worked in that neighborhood for several years 
until he acquired a little property. He then, in company with two 
young men, went to Harmon's Creek, in Washington county, Pa., 
(then Virginia,) where each of them selected for himself a tract of land, 
and commenced making the first improvements in that part, and pur- 
sued their labors undisturbed for several years. Adam Poe was six years 
younger than Andrew. When he became of age Andrew returned to 
Maryland and induced him to come to Harmon's Creek, and Adam 
also took up a farm, and their little settlement increased to ten or twelve 
families. Adam Poe was married in 1778, and Andrew in 1780. 

The Indians became very troublesome about this time. This little 
settlement was about twelve miles back from the Ohio river. The In- 
dians very often came across the river into the settlement in small par- 
ties, and killed a number of the inhabitants. Such as were active on 
foot went in small scouting parties into the Indian settlements to learn 
their strength and retaliate their injuries. Andrew Poe went frequently 
on those excursions, as he was of a daring spirit and inured to all the 
perils of the woods. At one time, in the Spring of 1781, whilst 
Andrew Poe, Robert Wallace and Robert Kennedy were on a scout in 
the Indian settlement, a party of Indians came into their neighborhood 
and killed the wife and child (about a year old) of Robert Wallace, 



444 Our Western Border. 

who lived nearest neighbor to Andrew Poe. The same year, in the 
month of June, a party of Indians, seven in number, came into the 
settlement, and about midnight broke into the house of William Jack- 
son, a man of about sixty years of age; he being alone in the house, 
they took him prisoner. 

They next tried to break into another house, where were several men, 
but failing to get in, they made off with Jackson. These men immedi- 
ately gave the alarm; the whole settlement was collected, and it was 
found that Jackson was missing. They made preparations for following 
the Indians as soon as it was light enough to see their trail, which was 
very visible in the thick and high growth of herbage. Twelve of their 
number, mounted on horseback, pursued at the greatest possible speed 
until they reached the top of the river hill, which was about twelve 
miles. There they hitched their horses, as the hill v/as steep, and trav- 
eled on foot. When they arrived at the bottom of the hill, near to the 
river, the trail turned down the river, and in crossing a little rivulet that 
put into the river, Andrew observed that where the Indians had stepped 
into the water it was still riley, and cautioned the men to keep quiet ; 
that the Indians were very near and would hear them and kill the pris- 
oner, as the men were making considerable noise with their feet by 
running. 

After several fruitless efforts to quiet them, he left the company, 
turning off square to the right, went to the bank of the river, and look- 
ing down, about twelve feet below him he saw two Indians standing 
about half bent, with their guns in their hands, looking down the river 
in the direction of the noise. He observed that one was a very large 
man. The thought struck him that he would shoot the big one and 
take the other prisoner. Accordingly, he squatted down in the weeds, 
they not having observed him. He crept up to the brow of the bank, 
put his gun through the weeds, took deliberate aim at the big Indian, 
who was three feet in advance of the other; but his gun missed fire. 
When the gun snapped, they both yelled, li Woh ! Woh ! ! " 

Poe immediately drew his head back, and the Indians did not see 
him. By this time the other men had overtaken the other five Indians 
with the prisoner, who were about one hundred yards lower down the 
river, and had begun to fire, which drew the attention of these two. 
Andrew cocked his gun and crept to the very edge of the bank, and 
again leveled his gun at the big Indian, but again it missed fire. He 
dropped the piece and sprang instantly on them. They, on wheeling 
about at the snap of his gun, were brought side by side, but had not 
time even to raise their guns before Andrew was upon them. He 
threw his weight on the big Indian, catching each of them around the 



Andy Poe's Famous Fight with Bigfoot, 445 

neck. His weight coming on them so suddenly, threw them both 
down. 

Bigfoot fell on his back, Andrew fell with his left side on him and his 
left arm around his neck. The little Indian fell rather behind An- 
drew, whose right arm was around his neck. Their guns both fell. 
One of them laid within reach of Andrew, who observed that it was 
cocked. The Indians had a raft fastened to the shore close by where 
they were standing, the river being very high. Their tomahawks and 
shot pouches, with their knives, were on the raft. Andrew's knife was 
in the scabbard attached to his shot pouch, which was pressed between 
him and Bigfoot. He got a slight hold of the handle and was trying 
to draw it out to dispatch Bigfoot. who, observing it, caught his hand 
and spoke in his own tongue very vehemently to the other, who was 
struggling hard to get loose. 

Andrew made several efforts to get his knife, but in vain. At last he 
jerked with all his might. Bigfoot instantly let his hand go, and An- 
drew, not having a good hold of the handle, and the knife coming out 
unexpectedly easy in consequence of Bigfoot's instantly loosing his 
grasp, it flew out of Andrew's hand, and the little Indian drew his head 
from under his arm, his grasp being slackened by the act of drawing the 
knife. Bigfoot instantly threw his long arms around Andrew's body 
and hugged him like a bear, whilst the little Indian sprang to the raft, 
which was about six feet off, and brought a tomahawk and struck at 
Andrew's head, who was still lying on his side on Bigfoot, he holding 
him fast. Andrew threw up his foot as the stroke came, and hit the 
Indian on the wrist with the toe of his shoe, and the tomahawk flew 
into the river. 

Bigfoot yelled at the little Indian furiously, who sprang to the raft 
and got the other tomahawk, and, after making several motions, struck 
at x\ndrew ! s head, who threw up his right arm and received the blow 
on his wrist, which cut off one bone of it and the cords of three of 
his fingers, disabling all the fingers of his right hand but the fore 
finger. Andrew immediately threw his hand over his head when he 
was struck, and the tomahawk, catching in the sinews of his arm, drew 
it out of the Indian's hand, and it flew over his head. After the stroke 
was given, Bigfoot let got his hold, and Andrew immediately sprang up. 
As he rose he seized the gun, which lay by his head, with his left hand, 
and it being already cocked, he shot the lesser Indian through the 
body. 

But scarcely had he done so when Bigfoot arose, and, placing one 
hand on his collar and the other on his hip, he threw him into the river. 
Andrew threw his left hand back, caught the Indian by his buckskin 



446 Our Western Border. 

breech-clout, and brought him along into the stream. The water being 
deep, they both went under. Then a desperate effort was made by each 
to drown the other, and sometimes one was under the water, sometimes 
the other, and sometimes both. 



The Two Make a Desperate Effort to Drown Each Other. 

In the struggle they were carried about thirty yards out into the river. 
Poe at length seized the tuft of hair on the scalp of the Indian, by 
which he held his head under water until he supposed him drowned 
But he himself was sinking ; not being able to do much with his righ*. 
hand, he threw it on the back of Bigfoot's neck, who was under water, 
and swara^ with his left hand, to recruit himself a little. But Bigfoot had 
only been ^possuming," and got from under Andrew's arm and swam 
for shore with all his speed. Poe followed him as fast as he could, but 
having only one hand to swim with, he could not catch him. 

As soon as Bigfoot got out of the water, the gun being uncocked, he 
went to cock it and disabled the lock. He then threw it down and 
picked up the empty gun with which Andrew had shot the other Indian, 
and went to the raft for the shot pouch and powder horn, and com- 
menced loading. In the meantime, as soon as Bigfoot reached the spot 
where both guns and tomahawk lay, Andrew swam back into the river 
and called for his brother Adam, who was with the other party. 

Adam came running on the bank where Andrew had jumped off, 
stopped, began to load his gun, as he had discharged it at the other In- 
dians. Andrew continued swimming away from them, with nothing 
but his face out of the water, still hurrying Adam to load quickly. The 
race between the two in loading was about equal, but the Indian drew 
the ramrod too hastily and it slipped out of his hands and fell a little 
distance from him. He quickly caught it up and rammed down his bul- 
let. This little delay gave Poe the advantage, so that just as Bigfoot 
raised his gun to shoot Andrew, Adam's ball entered the breast of the 
savage, and he fell forward on his face upon the very margin of the 
river. 

Adam, now alarmed for his brother, who was scarcely able to swim, 
jumped into the river to assist him to shore, but Andrew, thinking more 
of the honor of securing the big Indian's scalp as a trophy than of his 
own safety, called loudly upon his brother to leave him alone and scalp 
Bigfoot. Adam, however, refused to obey, and insisted upon saving 
the living before attending to the dead. Bigfoot, in the meantime, had 
succeeded in reaching the deep water before he expired, and his body 



Poe's Fight with a Young Bull. 447 

was borne off by the waves without being stripped of the ornament and 
pride of an Indian warrior. 

An unfortunate occurrence took place during this conflict. Just as 
Adam arrived at the top of the bank for the relief of his brother, the 
balance of his party, hearing the hallooing of Andrew, came running 
up the bank, and seeing him in the river, mistook him for a wounded In- 
dian, and three of them fired at him, one of them wounding him dan- 
gerously. . The ball entered his right shoulder near the junction with 
the neck, behind the collar bone and close to it; passing through his 
body, the ball came out at his left side, between the first rib and the 
hench bone. 

During the contest between Andrew Poe and the two Indians, the 
rest of the party followed the Indian trail to the river, where the other 
five Indians were with the prisoner, Jackson. They had a large raft, and 
were preparing to cross the river. Jackson seeing the men coming as 
soon as the Indians did, ran to them. One of the Indians having a 
tomahawk ran after him and struck him on the back, making but a 
slight wound. The men fired on the Indians, who returned the fire 
and plunged into the river. They did not capture any of the Indians, 
but being badly wounded only one of them got across the river, and he 
was shot through the hand. 

The Indians firing at our men, wounded but one of them. He was 
shot slightly through the side, but the ball cut his lungs, and he died in 
about an hour. His name was Cherry. The party took the dead man, 
Cherry, and Andrew Poe up the river hill to the horses, and then took 
them on horseback home. The locality on the Ohio river where this 
struggle occurred is in Virginia, nearly opposite the mouth of Little 
Yellow Creek. Andrew Poe recovered of his wounds and lived many 
years after his memorable conflict, but he never forgot the tremendous 
"hug" he sustained in the arms of Bigfoot. The smaller of the two 
Indians was a giant compared even with him. 



Poe's Fight with a Young Bull — A Revenge Thwarted. 

Thus far Poe's grandson. The old chroniclers state that Bigfoot had 
five brothers, all distinguished for their size and power. Andy Poe was 
a man of remarkable power and activity, and lived a long life of daring 
adventure. When advanced in years, and at the request of his friends, 
he used to fight over again his famous battle with Bigfoot, and those 
who saw him thus engaged, describe the scene as the most thrilling they 
ever beheld. The old man would enter thoroughly into the spirit of 



448 Our Western Border. 

the combat, and, with dilated pupil ; tense, rigid muscle, and almost 
choked with frothing rage, would go over each throe and struggle of 
that desperate conflict. These pantomime exhibitions were so painfully 
violent and furious that the old hunter would be as much exhausted by 
them as if they were actually real. Mr. F. Wadsworth states that Andy 
Poe was a very old man when he knew him, but would even then be- 
come very much excited when going over his hunting stories. (l One 
evening, after telling a good many, he put his hand on my shoulder and 
said : ' Mr. Wadsworth, no man ever took more satisfaction in hunt- 
ing deer, bear, wolves and buffalo than I have, but the greatest enjoy- 
ment I ever took was in hunting Indians.' " 

As serving well to illustrate the power and obstinate determination of 
the man, we may relate a well-authenticated incident of Andrew's old 
age. Among his cattle was a fierce and vicious young bull, who endan- 
gered all who approached him. Poe was in the habit of visiting his 
stock yard regularly, until he supposed the bull knew him well. On one 
occasion he was suddenly attacked by the refractory brute, receiving a 
severe gash from one of its horns. So exasperated did this singularly 
bold man become, that he went at once to the cabin, armed himself with 
his trusty old tomahawk — his most familiar companion in times long 
past — and, despite the entreaties of his family, returned to the yard, 
and, driving all the cattle out but the bull, he faced it with his menacing 
scowl, like a Spanish matador, and laid hold of his right horn. The 
infuriated beast reared and plunged and gored, filling the air with its 
awful lows and bellows. No use. Poe held on like grim Death, at every 
moment bringing down with his right arm the pipe end of the toma- 
hawk on the brute's skull. In this manner, and with hammer-headed 
obstinacy, he repeated his blows, until finally the vanquished animal 
sank dead at his feet. 

Rev. Finley, M. E. missionary among the Wyandots, states that so 
deeply was the loss of Bigfoot felt by the Wyandots that, determined on 
revenge, they some time afterwards sent Rohn-yen-ness, a noted chief, 
to Poe's cabin to kill him. Andrew, not suspecting the design, received 
and entertained the chief with such kindness that he was completely 
disarmed. Knowing, however., that his tribe had selected him as aven- 
ger, he, after many conflicts with himself, rose from his bed, knife in 
hand, to execute the bloody deed. But the more he tried the worse he 
felt, and finally slunk back to his blanket, and next morning stole 
away. He said afterwards to Finley that the more he thought the less 
he could do, and was convinced it was the work of the Great Spirit, 
This noble chief afterwards became an humble and sincere Christian. 



Col. Crawford's Expedition Against Sandusky. 449 



COL. CRAWFORD'S EXPEDITION AGAINST SANDUSKY. 
Disastrous Defeat and Retreat — Crawford's Awful Tortures. 

Though of the past, from no carved shrines, 

Canvas or deathless lyres, we learn ; 
Yet arbored trees and shadowy pines 

Are hung with legends wild and stern. 
In deep, dark glen — on mountain side, 

Are graves whence stately pines have sprung ; 
Naught telling how the victim died, 

Save faint tradition's faltering tongue. — Street. 

We have alluded to the greatly demoralized state of the Virginia and 
Pennsylvania frontiers after the Moravian Massacre of March, 1782. 
The reds were earlier abroad that year than usual, and their numerous 
ruthless murders and scalpings so exasperated the borders that a savage 
and rancorous feeling sprang up, one horrible result of which had been 
the bloody butchery of a whole innocent community. 

This, of course, failed to mend matters — such godless and barbarous 
measures never do. On the contrary, they grew much worse. The 
frightful tidings of the brutal slaughter were swiftly conveyed by fleet 
runners into every wigwam in Ohio, and the hate and rage of the sav- 
ages became intensely bitter and vengeful. Their fierce and pitiless 
scalping parties filled the woods and crowded the trails towards those 
who had even given them a lesson in savagery. The entire border now 
became so alarmed, that numbers abandoned their homes and fled from 
the exposed frontier. The only salvation, all urged, was the immediate 
destruction of Sandusky, which — dominated from Detroit — was the 
swarming hive of all the vagabondizing gangs of marauding scalpers. 

The clamor for a hostile expedition grew so hot and general, that the 
National Government, although not able then to spare any troops for 
one, agreed to give its official sanction. The County Lieutenants, there- 
fore, conferred with General Irvine, of Fort Pitt; equipments and am- 
munition were furnished, and the orders went out for a secret assemblage 
of mounted volunteers at Mingo Bottom, on the Ohio, three miles 
below the present town of Steubenville, on or about the 20th of May. 

All was now bustle and busy preparation. It was General Irvine's 
opinion that it would be rash in the highest degree to penetrate so far 
into hostile territory with less than three hundred men, but every glade 
and valley from Old Redstone to Fort Henry was now aroused, and as 
the time approached, it was seen that that number would be exceeded. 
29 



450 Our Western Border. 

How many tender partings went with that motley assemblage ! The en- 
terprise was full of risk and peril. Many of the volunteers had made 
their wills. The usual style of leaving home, was to take down the 
loaded rifle from the buck's antlers above the mantel, examine the flint, 
see that the pouches were filled with patches and bullets, walk out of the 
rude log-cabin door, mount horse, discharge rifle, and immediately ride 
off without once looking behind or saying a word. v The times were 
"terribly out of joint," and there was no time for these young Hot- 
spurs to "play with mammets or to tilt with lips." 

Every cluster of cabins, every sequestered valley had contributed its 
quota, and all these little streams of excited humanity now trended their 
various and devious ways towards Mingo Bottom. On that broad and 
fertile plateau, surrounded by the dense and solemn woods, into whose 
profound depths and solitudes they were about to plunge, they exchanged 
greetings, and fired off noisy feus de joie. They comprised the very 
pick and flower of the yeomanry from the rugged hills and wild glens 
of Western Pennsylvania — all volunteers, and most of them young and 
of the free, sturdy and obstinate Scotch-Irish stock. Not alone three 
hundred, which was Irvine's minimum, but no less than four hundred 
and eighty, mounted on the very best and fleetest horses of the border. 
Of this eager and noisy muster, about two-thirds were from Washington 
and the rest from Westmoreland county. 

What a picturesque assemblage of stalwart, sinewy, loose-jointed men 
it was, to be sure, with their horns and pouches strapped to their brawny 
breasts; all accoutred in leggins, moccasins and fringed hunting shirts, 
belted at the waist. On the right side hung the keen tomahawk; on the 
left, the scalping knife. The long, heavy rifle, void of all show, but 
gotten up for use and range, was the faithful familiar of all. Scarce 
one there that could not bark a squirrel or decapitate a turkey from the 
loftiest tree. Strapped to each rustic saddle was the tow-cloth, or cow- 
hide knapsack, crammed with indispensables for the journey. From the 
pommel hung the canteen and the supply of flour and bacon. The sad- 
dle blanket was to serve for bed at night. 

A canvass for officers was the first business after all had gathered. If 
any there felt any apprehensions of the future, none did he exhibit. 
The whiskey flowed freely. The hoppled horses quietly munched the 
lush herbage under the huge sycamores, which there grew to an enor- 
mous size. Here one group played at cards ; another engaged at rifle 
shooting ; while another still was busy discussing the chances of the en- 
terprise and who ought to be chosen to lead them. At the election that 
followed, Colonel William Crawford was elected over Colonel David 
Williamson — the leader of the late Gnadenhutten massacre expedition — 



Who Colonel Crawford Was. 451 

by a vote of two hundred and thirty-five against two hundred and 
thirty. 

It is part of the secret history of the expedition, that General Irvine, 
and the whole Fort Pitt influence, was thrown in favor of the successful 
candidate. However much the Moravian massacre may have been ap- 
proved, or at least excused, on the border, it had been universally con- 
demned east of the mountains. Its bloody details had created among 
all classes a feeling of horror and indignation, and it was thought wise 
to restrain this officially-authorized expedition from any like damnable 
atrocity. There was still a remnant of the Christian Indians in the 
Sandusky country, whither they were going, that was to be saved from 
any further outrage and savagery. 

The border histories of the day, following the wake of Withers, 
Doddridge and Heckewelder, do not hesitate to affirm that the destruc- 
tion of the Moravian Indians, who had escaped the late massacre, was 
the sole end and aim of this expedition, but without going into details 
to prove bur conviction, we can safely and most positively affirm that 
all reliable evidence points directly contrary. However much some of 
the rude and tempestuous borderers who made part of that muster, 
might desire another pillaging and slaughtering raid, nothing of that kind 
could be attempted, the popular Colonel Crawford being leader. His 
election was cheerfully submitted to by all present; his defeated competi- 
tor taking the second position. Major John Rose, a gallant gentle- 
man and protege of General Irvine, was sent to act as aide to Crawford, 
while Dr. John Knight was detailed as surgeon. 

Thus the whole enterprise was put under government auspices. While 
the noisy throng are loosing their rude bridles of skin and getting ready 
for the woods, let us say a few words of Colonel William Crawford, the 
able and gentlemanly leader of the troop. 



Who Colonel Crawford Was — A Fight with Morgan. 

Colonel William Crawford was one of the most notable men of the 
Pennsylvania border. Like his early and intimate friend, Washington, 
he commenced life as a surveyor, and it was while on a professional ex- 
cursion in the Shenandoah Valley that Washington first made his ac- 
quaintance. Crawford's mother was a woman of unusual energy and 
physical strength, and by her second marriage with Richard Stephen- 
son, had a troop of boys remarkable for their size and strength. There 
are many stories told of the athletic sports and trials of strength be- 
tween Washington and the Stephenson and Crawford boys. In running 



452 Our Western Border. 

and jumping with them, Washington was generally the victor, but in 
wrestling it was often his fate to be worsted. 

In '55 he served as ensign at the disastrous battle of Braddocks Fields, 
and, for his gallantry, was soon after promoted to a lieutenancy, serving 
for some time on the harassed frontier, and acquiring great skill as an 
Indian fighter. In General Forbes' expedition against Fort Duquesne, 
he recruited and commanded a company under Washington. In con- 
nection with the marching of this company, we may relate one of the 
stories of the time. When all ready to move his command to join 
Washington, there was an urgent need of transportation, and a wagoner 
having stopped at the encampment to feed his team, Crawford told him 
he would have to impress him and his wagon into the public service. 
The teamster — a sturdy, stalwart, double-fisted yeoman — was much 
averse to this violent procedure, and after sullenly surveying Crawford's 
men, as if concluding on the uselessness of resistance, he observed to 
Crawford that it was a hard thing to have himself and property forced 
into service ; that every man ought to have a fair chance, and offering, 
as he was but one against a number, to decide the matter by a contest 
with him or any one of the company — if beaten, he was to join them, 
but if victorious, he was to be allowed to go his way. 

This proposition exactly accorded with the rude customs of the 
border, and the challenge of the teamster was at once gladly accepted, 
Crawford himself — noted, as stated, for his strength and agility — claim- 
ing the honor of handling him. Both now began to strip for the con- 
test, the men quickly forming a ring about, when a strapping, power- 
ful young stranger, who had lately joined the company, drew Crawford 
aside and most earnestly urged him to trust the struggle to him. "Cap- 
tain," said he, coolly, " you must let me fight that fellow; he'll be sure 
to whip you, and it will never do to have the whole company whipped." 
The men around were so impressed with the confident and determined 
manner of their companion, as well as by the promising strength of his 
lithe and sinewy frame, that they persuaded their Captain to retire in 
his favor, and the contest began. 

The huge wagoner, peeled to the buff and evidently an adept in 
pugilistic struggles, rushed briskly to the encounter, but the youthful 
stranger met him promptly half way; sprang upon him with the agility 
and fierceness of a catamount, and poured upon his luckless antagonist 
such a rain of fast and furious blows that the combat was as short as it 
was decisive. The teamster was very speedily vanquished, and eagerly 
proclaimed his willingness to go along with the company. The victor 
over the powerful wagoner was Daniel Morgan, afterwards General of 
the Riflemen of the Revolution. 



Who Colonel Crawford Was. 453 

After the evacuation of Fort Duquesne, Crawford remained in the 
Virginia service and chiefly engaged in frontier duty for several years. 
In 1767 he started on a horseback exploring expedition across the 
mountains, and was so pleased with the Youghiogheny Valley, that he 
resolved to locate on a spot on the river known in Braddock's expedi- 
tion as " Stewart's Crossings," but now as Connellsville, Fayette coun- 
ty, Pa. He immediately set to work erecting his lonely cabin, clearing 
the howling wilderness around and trading with the Indians. In a year 
or two afterwards, his half-brother Hugh joined him, and both spent 
some years in clearing extensive tracts of land. 

The intimate relations between Crawford and Washington were never 
disturbed. They corresponded constantly, took an occasional excursion 
together, and the former selected and located some fine tracts of land 
for Washington. At the breaking out of the disputes between Virginia 
and Pennsylvania as to the boundary lines of the respective States, 
Crawford took quite a prominent part, as he did also afterwards in the 
Revolutionary war. He was sent out, in 1778, by Washington, to take 
command on the frontier and for many years did most excellent service, 
becoming noted as a very able and efficient Indian fighter — cool, brave 
and a perfect woodsman. 

After the capture of Cornwallis, deeming the war to be virtually over, 
he only thought of spending the rest of his days in the bosom of his 
large family. His children were all married and lived about him. His 
daughter Sallie, wife of William Harrison, was a beautiful woman, being 
considered the belle of the West. When, in '82, the expedition was 
being raised against Sandusky, he was often consulted and gradually all 
eyes turned towards him as its most fitting leader, but, although he 
warmly favored the enterprise, he positively refused to command it. 
But his beloved son John, his nephew William, and his son-in-law Har- 
rison, having all volunteered, he was induced to say, that if elected to 
the command he would serve. He made his will, put his house in order, 
took a tender leave of his beloved family, mounted his horse and, hav- 
ing had a long interview with General Irvine at Fort Pitt, he left for 
Mingo Bottom, being, as stated, elected, on May 24th, to command the 
expedition, with Colonel Williamson as his second, Major Rose as his 
aide-de-camp, and Jonathan Zane and John Slover as guides. He was 
then about fifty years of age, of a very fine and attractive person, in 
the full vigor of life, and esteemed and respected by all. 



454 Our Western Border. 



Cavalcade Sets Out — Struggle About " Battle Island." 

The formidable cavalcade, numbering no less than four hundred and 
eighty men — the very flower of the border, and mounted on the best 
and fleetest horses — moved early the next morning over the river bluff, 
and were immediately enshrouded in the vast wilderness. The fourth 
evening they encamped amid the deserted ruins of New Schcenbrun, 
the upper village of the Moravians, feeding their horses from the un* 
gathered crops of the previous year. 

Here they routed up and pursued two savages, who, however, escaped. 
All hope of secrecy was now abandoned, and nothing remained but to 
press on with all possible vigor. Five days later they reached the San- 
dusky near the present town of Crestline. Not an Indian seen since 
leaving the Muskingum ! Was this a propitious or an ominous sign ? 
Soon after, according to the statements of Zane and Slover, the two 
guides, they were approaching the Wyandot town, but strange that no 
signs of Indian occupation could be seen. Further on an opening in 
the woods is discovered. It is the town they seek. The horses are 
spurred into a rapid trot. 

To the utter amazement and consternation of all, every hut was found 
deserted — nothing but a dreary solitude all around. The guides looked 
at the leaders with blank dismay in their [ faces. They had not the 
slightest suspicion that the year before, the Half King Pomoacon had 
moved his town some eight miles lower down the Sandusky. A halt 
was called at once, and a council of officers anxiously deliberated over 
the perplexing situation. It was the opinion of both Zane and Craw- 
ford that a return to the Ohio should be immediately made, as the ab- 
sence of Indians and other suspicious signs made it highly probable that 
the savages were withdrawing before them and concentrating their forces. 
It was finally concluded that the troops should move forward that day but 
no longer. 

The company of light horse rushed rapidly forward and soon reached 
a beautiful woody island in the midst of a prairie, which seemed to in- 
vite them out of the fierce heats of the June sun. They pause and rest, 
but finally strike out again into the open. All at once they suddenly 
come in view of the enemy running directly towards them. Aha ! 
Shaken up at last ! Listen to those yells and whoops ! The skulking 
copperheads ! A fleet horseman flies to the rear to apprise Crawford, 
and all at once is bustle and animation. 

We may explain here what not a single soul of that expedition then 
knew Instead of their movement being kept secret, it was closely 



Struggle About Battle Island. 455 

watched by a sleepless foe from the very first moment of its inception. 
Ever since the Gnadenhutten massacre, watchful Indian spies had been 
kept all along the border. The news of the present movement had 
been carried by fleet runners to the various allied tribes ; and their 
towns were working like hives of angry bees. Not, however, until the 
Muskingum was passed, could the savages determine where the dread 
blow was to fall. Runners were then at once dispatched to Detroit for 
immediate aid. The tocsin of alarm was sounded in all the towns of 
the Shawnees on Mad river, the Delawares on the Tymochtee, and the 
Hurons on the Sandusky. The squaws and children were quickly hur- 
ried to a safe place of retreat, and all the braves commenced to paint 
and plume for the war path. 

It was, then, the combined Delaware force of Pipe and Wingenund, 
amounting to two hundred, that Crawford's videttes had encountered. 
These were just waiting for four hundred Wyandots, under their great 
war chief, Shaus-sho-toh. Together they already outnumbered Craw- 
ford's troops, but this was by no means the whole. The news of the 
discovery of redskins was received by the grumbling Americans with 
the most lively satisfaction. They leaped to their horses, hurriedly 
looked to their weapons, rapidly fell into line and spurred briskly for- 
ward. 

Now the superior genius of Major John Rose first began to exhibit 
itself. As the opposing forces drew near to the dread conflict, his keen, 
dark eyes flashed with excitement ; his demeanor was calm, cool and 
confident. As he scoured along on his blooded mare from point to 
point, carrying the orders of the commander, his intrepidity and fine 
martial appearance attracted all eyes and won all hearts. The foe was 
now seen directly in front, taking possession of the grove on the prairie 
so lately abandoned by the light horse. A quick, forward movement, 
attended with hot, rapid firing, soon drove the enemy out again into 
the open. The savages then attempted to occupy a skirt of woods on 
the right flank, but were at once prevented by Major Leet's command. 

The renegade, Captain Elliott, who now made his appearance as 
commander-in-chief, ordered The Pipe and his Delawares to flank to 
the right, and attack Crawford in the rear. This manoeuvre was exe- 
cuted boldly and skillfully, nearly proving fatal to the Americans. The 
action now became general, and the firing was hot, close and con- 
tinued, but the Americans maintained their position. The enemy 
skulked much behind the tall grass, and could only be picked off by 
sharpshooting. Big Captain Johnny, a huge Indian chief, near seven 
foot high and of frightful ugliness, was very conspicuous in this strug- 
gle ; so, also, was Simon Girty, who, seated on a white horse of power- 



456 Our Western Border. 

ful stride, could both be seen and heard in different parts of the field, 
cheering his Indians to the encounter. 

At dark the enemy's fire slackened, and Crawford's force was much 
encouraged. They did not, until long afterwards, know that their 
safety lay in forcing the fight, Elliott's and Girty's in delay. At length 
the foe drew off for the night, leaving Crawford in possession of the 
grove about which the battle had raged, and known in history as 
"Battle Island." The day had been sultry, and the volunteers suffered 
dreadfully from thirst. No prisoners were taken on either side, but 
quite a number of the Americans had been killed or wounded. 

Both parties lay on their arms the whole night, kindling large fires in 
front, and then retiring some distance to the rear, in order to prevent 
night surprises. 



Battle Renewed the Next Day — Crawford Forced to Retreat. 

Early the next day the battle was renewed, but only at long shot, 
and so continued during the whole day, but Crawford's position was 
plainly growing worse and more untenable each hour, while that of the 
enemy was just contrariwise. Crawford wished to compel closer and 
more decisive fighting, but his men were exhausted by the heat and 
thirst, or sickened by bad water, and it was finally concluded to lay by 
and then attempt a night attack. 

A wonderful and disastrous change, however, soon set in. Then con- 
fidence soon turned to doubt, and doubt to dismay. Towards evening 
an outlying sentinel discovered a troop of horse approaching on a 
brisk trot in the direction of the Wyandots. They were Butler's 
British Rangers, and we now know were from Detroit, although none 
of Crawford's men knew then, if they did ever, where they were from. 
That British aid could come from Detroit, or from any other point, 
was never so much as dreamed of by any. It was now supposed they 
must have descended from Maumee or Sandusky Bay. 

The tidings came to the Americans with startling and stunning force. 
A council of war was called at once. Even while they were deliber- 
ating, a large reinforcement of Shawnees from Mad river, about two 
hundred strong, was observed moving along in full view on their flank, 
and taking position with the Delawares, so that the trail our scouts fol- 
lowed ran along between two hostile camps. All over the prairie, too, 
small squads of the enemy could be seen pouring in from various direc- 
tions. Matters began to look desperate. British cavalry, with a cloud 
of yelling savages on one side, and a strong force of Shawnees on the 



Crawford Forced to Retreat. 457 

other! They were clearly outnumbered, two to one, and every hour 
was adding to their inferiority. 

A retreat that night was instantly and unanimously resolved upon. It 
was commenced at nine o'clock, in four divisions. The dead were hastily 
buried, and litters were prepared for the dangerously wounded. Mean- 
while the desultory firing was continued. The loud, hoarse voice of 
Girty was frequently heard in various directions, directing and locating 
his different forces, and it became at once patent to the very dullest 
comprehension that he was preparing for an overwhelming and irresisti- 
ble attack the next day. 

At dark the outposts were withdrawn as quietly as possible, and the 
whole body was put in motion. Unfortunately, the enemy early discov- 
ered the movement, and at once opened a hot fire. Many became pan- 
icky, and the retreat grew confused and precipitate. It is a delicate 
matter for even trained veterans to retire in face of a superior and vic- 
torious army. With raw volunteers an orderly withdrawal is almost 
impossible. Great wonder, dark as was the night, that this hasty retreat 
did not degenerate into an utter rout; but, thanks to the officers, some 
order was preserved. 

A great blessing was it that the enemy was also in confusion and 
some alarm. They were not so sure that a retreat was intended, and 
were fearful of a feint or a night attack, a style of fighting that redmen 
never indulge in if it is possible to avoid. Unfortunately, a number of 
horses now became hopelessly bogged in a swamp, and had to be aban-' 
doned. The rear suffered severely, while many parties became detached 
from the main body and straggled off, blindly groping their way through 
the black, tangled woods. Only about three hundred were found 
together next morning. 

The unpleasant discovery was now made that Colonel Crawford, the 
commander, was missing, with his son, son-in-law and nephew; also 
Slover, the guide, and Dr. Knight, the surgeon. None had heard of 
them, and knew not whether killed, wounded or straggling. Colonel 
Williamson now took command and, aided constantly and most effici- 
ently by Major Rose, strove to bring order out of confusion. 

It would require a volume to relate the various adventures and vicis- 
situdes, or the sad and cruel fate that befell individuals and groups of 
stragglers. Some of them are intensely exciting and interesting. We 
can only follow the main body, which marched steadily and rapidly 
along all that day. The British cavalry and a body of mounted In- 
dians hovered in their rear, but did little damage. That afternoon, as 
they were nearing the woods which bounded the Sandusky Plains on 
the east, the enemy began to press hard on their rear, and undertook a 



458 Our Western Border. 

rapid flank movement on either side, with the design of cutting off all 
retreat, or of forcing a disastrous combat on the plain, before the shelter 
of the woods could be secured. 

Our resolute little force was driven to bay just at the entrance of the 
forest, and doggedly faced about, their pursuers — all mounted, but with 
no artillery — overlapping them on both sides, and painfully superior 
both in number and equipments. 

Williamson and Rose exerted themselves to the utmost to organize a 
spirited and efficient defence. The latter, especially, flew from rank to 
rank, cheering and encouraging all by his skill, his coolness and his 
intrepidity. "It is not too much to say," writes Butterfield, in his ad- 
mirable and exhaustive account of Crawford's Expedition, "that the 
undaunted young foreigner was the good angel of the American forces." 
" Stand to your ranks, boys!" were his inspiring words sounding along 
the lines; "stand to your ranks! take steady aim! fire low! and don't 
throw away a single shot ! Remember ! everything depends upon your 
steadiness." 

The enemy attacked vigorously in front, flank and rear, but in less 
than an hour were forced to give way, and were driven off at every point. 
The battle over, a driving storm swept along with unusual fury, wetting 
all the arms and drenching the troops to the skin. They continued the 
retreat, the enemy rallying their scattered force and following hard 
after. 

Their firing became at last so galling that a complete panic would 
have resulted had it not been for the almost superhuman efforts of Major 
Rose, who enjoined upon the wavering lines that they must keep rank 
or not a soul of them would ever reach home. Order was at length 
restored, every now and then the front company filing to the left and 
taking position in the rear, thus giving each company its turn in cover- 
ing the retreat. 

Next morning, however, the enemy reappeared and hung for awhile 
in the rear, capturing and tomahawking two of the scouts ; but just 
then, fortunately, the pursuit was abandoned. The last hostile shot was 
fired near where Crestline, O., now stands. Neither savage nor ranger 
was afterwards seen during the retreat ; but many stragglers found their 
way back to the lines, and were received with welcome hurrahs. 

The Muskingum was recrossed on the ioth, and Mingo Bottom was 
reached on the 13th, where some of the missing had arrived before 
them. They immediately recrossed the Ohio and dispersed to their 
several homes. Parties or single stragglers came in for days afterwards. 
The total loss in killed, wounded and missing, it has since been discov- 
ered, was less than seventy. 



Crawford's Capture and Thrilling Adventures. 459 

Colonel Williamson, in his official report to General Irvine at Fort 
Pitt, writes thus of his aid, the gallant Major Rose : "I must acknow- 
ledge myself ever obliged to Major Rose for his assistance, both in the 
field of action and in the camp. His character is estimable, and his 
bravery cannot be outdone." General Irvine, too, in his letter to 
Crawford's widow, says : ' ' After the defeat, Williamson and others in- 
formed me that it was owing, in a great degree, to the bravery and good 
conduct of Major Rose that the retreat was so well effected." 

Thus ended this twenty days' campaign in the western wilds. The 
total failure of the expedition created incredible alarm and dismay along 
the whole border, which was now left more defenceless than ever, and 
for months after was exposed to merciless marauds and scalping forays. 



Colonel Crawford's Capture and Thrilling Adventures. 

And where all this time was Colonel William Crawford, the courteous 
gentleman, the brave and gallant partisan officer, the daring defender 
of the West, and the trusted, life-long friend of Washington? Dr. 
Knight, in his thrilling account of his own escape, says he had not gone 
over a quarter of a mile in the general retreat before he heard Crawford 
calling out of the dark and confusion for his son, John ; his nephew, 
William ; his son-in-law, Major Harrison, and on his friend, Major 
Rose. Knight told him he thought they were all in front, and promised 
to stand by him. They both waited and called for the absent men until 
all the troops had passed, when the Colonel said his horse had given 
out, and he wished some of his best friends to stay by him. 

By this time they were near the marsh, where they saw some volun- 
teers vainly struggling to disengage their horses from the oozy bog. 
Crawford, Knight and two others, now changed their route to the north 
for a couple of miles, and then east, directing their course by the north 
star. They traveled all night, crossing the Sandusky. By daylight 
Crawford's horse gave out and was abandoned. That afternoon they 
fell in with Captain Biggs and Lieutenant Ashley — the latter severely 
wounded — and went into camp. The next day they were quietly 
thridding their way through the matted woods, when several Indians 
started up within a few feet of Knight and Crawford. 

As only three were first discerned, Knight sprang behind a black oak 
and was taking aim when the Colonel called twice to him not to fire. 
One of the savages then ran up and took Crawford's hand, and an- 
other, whom Knight had formerly often seen, ran up to him, calling 
him Doctor. The party had fallen into an ambuscade of Delawares, 



460 Our Western Border. 

Wingenund's camp being only half a mile off. Captain Biggs had 
fired at the Indians and missed ; but all succeeded, for the present, in 
escaping but Knight and Crawford, who were taken to the Indian camp. 
The scalps of Biggs and Ashley were brought in soon after. 

As may well be supposed, the rejoicings of the savages at their late 
decisive victory had been immense. The allied forces retired to the 
Half King's town to celebrate the triumph with all sorts of dances, 
orgies and ceremonies. The British horse were compelled to retire to 
Detroit immediately, but the Indian women and children came out from 
their hiding places, and the festivities were kept up for some time. 
Among the spoils were numerous horses, guns, saddles, lashing- 
ropes, etc. 

The first excitement over, a runner was sent to bring Crawford and 
Knight on to Pipe's town on the Tymochtee. Their doom was already 
sealed, but they were kept in total ignorance of their fate. As before 
stated, the burning and torture of prisoners was an obsolete custom 
among the Wyandots, and the Delawares did not dare to so put them 
to death without permission from Pomoacon. To obtain this the crafty 
Pipe resorted to a ruse. A runner, with a belt of wampum, was dis- 
patched to the Half King with a message to the effect that they had a 
cherished project to accomplish and did not wish him to interfere, and 
that they would consider the return of the wampum as equivalent to his 
pledged word. The Half King was puzzled. He narrowly questioned 
the messenger, who feigned ignorance. Finally, supposing it must be 
some war expedition against the border which the Delawares wished to 
undertake, he returned the belt to the messenger with these words : 
" Say to my nephews they have my pledge !" 

This was poo* Crawford's death warrant. On June ioth he and 
Knight, with nine other prisoners, were all marched off on the trail to 
the Half King's town. Crawford had been told that Simon Girty — . 
who had scarcely reached Detroit, from a border raid, before news of 
Crawford's expedition and Pomoacon's earnest appeal for immediate aid 
summoned him away again — was at the Half King's town. Girty was 
an old acquaintance of Crawford — some say a rejected suitor of one of 
his daughters — and at the latter's appeal he was conducted, under 
charge of two warriors, to interview the renegade. The rest continued 
on. 

Crawford saw Girty that night ; very little is known of the confer- 
ence, but a Christian Indian, Tom Galloway by name, asserts that he 
heard the whole talk, and that Crawford had made to Girty an earnest 
appeal for his life, offering him a thousand dollars if he succeeded ; and 
that Girty promised he would do all he could for him. 



Crawford's Capture and Thrilling Adventures'. 461 

This being reported to Pipe and Wingenund, only made them more 
determined on his speedy death. 

Girty also told the Colonel that Major Harrison, his son-in-law, and 
young William Crawford, his nephew, were prisoners to the Shawnees, 
but had been pardoned by them. True as to their capture, but false as 
to the pardon. The prisoners at the Half King's town, soon after 
Crawford's departure, were tomahawked and their heads stuck upon 
poles. It is certain they were not tortured to death. 

Knight and his fellow prisoners meanwhile had been taken on to Old 
Town, and securely guarded during the night. Next day Pipe and 
Wingenund approached them, the former with his own hands painting 
all their faces black, a sure sign of intended death. Crawford soon 
after came up, and now saw the two redoubtable Delaware war chiefs for 
the first time. They both came forward and greeted him as an old ac- 
quaintance, Pipe telling him, in his blandest and oiliest manner, that he 
would have him shaved (adopted), but at the same time he painted him 
black / 

The whole party now started for Pomoacon's town, the two chiefs 
keeping Knight and Crawford in the rear. They soon had the inex- 
pressible horror of seeing, at intervals of half a mile apart, the dead, 
scalped bodies of four of their fellow prisoners. To add to their alarm 
and dismay, they now diverged off into a trail leading from Pomoacon's 
hut directly to Pipe's town. Their very last hope now died in their sad 
hearts. 

On the Little Tymochtee, where there was an Indian hamlet, they 
overtook the other five prisoners, and all were ordered to sit on the 
ground. Here a lot of squaws and children fell on the five prisoners 
with incredible fury, and tomahawked and scalped them all. One 
hideous old hag cut off the head of John McKinly, and kicked it about 
over the grass. The boys came up to where the horror-stricken Knight 
and Crawford were sitting apart, and frequently dashed the gory and 
reeking scalps into their very faces. 

Again they were driven forward, and were soon met by Simon Girty 
and several prominent Indians, all mounted. Girty well knowing what 
fate had been decided for Crawford, had ridden across the plains to 
Pipe's town — let us hope to save him, if possible. 

Those who contend that Girty was nothing but a wild beast, assert 
that he never interfered or intended to interfere ; that he not only con- 
sented to Crawford's death, but took a fiendish delight in witnessing it. 
Others, having quite as good means of information, strongly assert that 
he did all he could for Crawford, but that that was not much. 

The Delawares were obstinately bent on making the " Big Captain," 



462 Our Western Border. 

as they styled Crawford, a victim and an example. The late horrible 
massacre of so many of their tribe on the Muskingum had rendered 
them absolutely envenomed and pitiless, and it is probable that no one — 
not even Pomoacon himself — could have saved Crawford. Girty was 
an adopted Wyandot, and any strong or persevering effort on his 
part to defraud the zealous and infuriated Delawares of their revenge 
would not only have subjected him to insult, but to personal injury. 

Joseph McCutcheon, in an article on Girty in the American Pioneer, 
asserts that he gathered from the Wyandots themselves that Girty offered 
a large sum of money to Pipe for Crawford, which the chief received 
as a great insult, promptly replying : 

" Sir, do you think I am a squaw? If you say one word more on 
the subject, I will make a stake for you and burn you along with the 
White Chief." 

Girty, knowing the Indian character, retired in silence. 

McCutcheon also asserts that Girty had sent runners to Mohican 
Creek and Lower Sandusky, where there were some white traders, to 
come immediately and buy Crawford off. The traders came, but were 
too late, Crawford being then in the midst of his tortures. 

Be all this as it may, if any efforts were made in Crawford's behalf, 
they were totally ineffectual. As the two prisoners moved along, almost 
every Indian they met struck them with their fists or with sticks. Girty 
asked Knight if he was the doctor'; Knight said yes, and extended his 

hand ; upon which Girty called him a rascal, and bid him begone, 

and afterwards told him he was to go to the Shawnees towns. 



Colonel Crawford's Awful and Protracted Tortures. 

We now approach the sad end of this mournful, cruel tragedy. The 
other prisoners were dispatched promptly and without ceremony, but 
for the "Big Captain" a more dreadful, appalling fate was reserved. 
All the devilish and excruciating tortures which ever entered into savage 
head to conceive were to be visited on the distinguished leader of the 
ill-starred expedition. 

Almost within sight of Pipe's town, and amid a yelling, infuriated 
crowd of over one hundred braves, squaws and boys, a brisk fire was 
kindled. It was late on the afternoon of Tuesday, June nth, 1782. 
There were the two Delaware war chiefs, Pipe and Wingenund ; Simon 
Girty, and Captain Elliott, in the uniform of a British officer, stood 
near. Dr. Knight was also a horrified and unwilling spectator of the 
awful scene. 



Crawford's Awful and Protracted Tortures. 463 

He and Crawford, stripped entirely naked and painted black, were 
first ordered to sit down, when all at once the savages fell upon them 
and belabored them most unmercifully. Meanwhile a long stake had 
been firmly planted, to which the poor Colonel was fastened by a rope 
just long enough to allow him to either sit down or take two or three 
turns around. The wretched victim, seeing all these frightful prepara- 
tions and the scowling, distorted visages of the yelling and leaping de- 
mons about him, called to Girty, and asked if the savages intended 
burning him. Girty answered " yes;" to which Crawford said he would 
strive to bear it all with fortitude. Pipe, who, of all present, seemed 
the most savage and implacable, made one of his ardent, stirring harangues, 
exciting his motley audience to a perfect fury. 

Heckewelder relates that when Wingenund afterwards came to Detroit, 
he was severely censured for not saving the life of his old acquaintance, 
Colonel Crawford. He listened calmly, and then said to Heckewelder: 
"These men talk like fools," and then, turning to his accusers, he said, 
in English: "If King George himself had been on the spot, with all his 
ships laden with treasures, he could not have ransomed my friend, nor 
saved his life from the rage of a justly exasperated multitude." He 
never after would allude to the torture, but was full of grief, and felt 
greatly hurt at those who censured him; for he contended that the 
Gnadenhutten massacre was a wanton and most atrocious insult to his 
nation, and that the blood of those innocent Christians, so inhumanly 
butchered, called aloud for vengeance. 

Another circumstance Heckewelder asserts was much against the pris- 
oner. It was reported that the Indian spies, on examining the camp at 
Mingo Bottom, after the expedition left, found on the peeled trees these 
words, written with coal: "No quarters to be given to an Indian, 
whether man, woman or child ! " If such rumors were circulated among 
the savages, they must have been done for effect, or were after-thoughts 
designed to excuse these atrocious tortures. There is not a tittle of evi- 
dence going to prove any such ferocious bravado, although doubtless a 
large proportion of the volunteers were the same Indian haters who were 
out on the Williamson raid. 

Heckewelder also gives a highly interesting account of the conversa- 
tion alleged to have occurred just before the commencement of the tor- 
tures, between Wingenund and Crawford, in which the former solemnly 
asserted that by Crawford's making himself an accomplice of the exe- 
crable miscreant Williamson, it was out of his power or that of any of 
his friends to save him. 

Upon Crawford's most solemn assurance that both he and all good 
men not only condemned that atrocious slaughter, but that he was put 



464 Our Western Border. 

at the head of this expedition expressly to prevent any excesses of that 
kind, and that it was not undertaken, as the Indians asserted, against 
the remnant of the Christian Indians, but for a purely military purpose, 
the chief said the Indians could not be made to believe such a story ; 
that if Williamson had been taken, he (Wingenund) and his friends 
might have effected something ; but since that savage murderer had run 
off, no man would dare to interfere; that the blood of the slaughtered, 
the relatives of those massacred, and that the whole nation cried aloud 
for revenge. 

Hecke welder thus concludes: "I have been assured by respectable 
Indians that at the close of this conversation, which was related to me 
by Wingenund, as well as by others, both he and Crawford burst into a 
flood of tears; they then took an affectionate leave of each other, and 
the chief immediately hid himself in the bushes, as the Indians express 
it, or retired to a solitary spot. He never afterwards spoke of the fate 
of his unfortunate friend without strong emotions of grief, which I have 
several times witnessed." Whether this conversation actually occurred; 
whether it was the coinage of Heckewelder or of Wingenund — and each 
presumption has its adherents — must, at this late day, be left entirely 
to conjecture and the probabilities of the case. Certain it is, the cruel 
tortures went on. 

The men now took up their guns and shot powder into Crawford's 
naked body from his feet up to his neck, to the number of full seventy 
loads. They then crowded in on him, and must have cut off his ears, 
since Dr. Knight saw the blood running in streams from both sides of 
his head. The circle of fire rose from small hickory poles, and was 
placed several yards from the stake, so that the poor sufferer had not, 
like the blessed martyrs of old, the consolation of a speedy, if a horri- 
ble death, but by a hellish refinement of cruelty his tortures were design- 
edly prolonged. It would not serve the purposes of these incarnate 
fiends to have the victim become too soon insensate; they must gall and 
sting, beat and harass, rack and worry him by slow installments. Happy 
was the savage who could wreak upon the wretched sufferer one pang or 
agony more exquisite or excruciating than the last ! who could wring 
from his poor humanity a more profound groan, or who could give his 
shrinking nerves or quivering flesh one added torment. 

As Crawford began his weary rounds about the post, the yelling fiends 
would take up the blazing fagots and apply them to his shrinking, 
powder-scorched body. The squaws, more pitiless, if possible, than 
the men, gathered up the glowing embers on broad peelings of bark 
and cast them over his trembling body. Oh, it was horrible — most hor- 
rible. No escape from these merciless devils ; their leering, hideous faces 



Crawford's Last Moments. 465 

presented on all sides, and very soon the writhing martyr walked solely 
on a bed of scorching coals. 



Crawford's Last Moments — " He Gives up the Ghost." 

In the very midst of these awful orgies, Crawford called upon Girty 
again and again to shoot him and end his misery. Girty, it is said, re- 
plied he had no gun. He would not have dared to shoot even had he 
been so disposed. He soon after came up to Knight, and bade him pre- 
pare for the same death. He then observed that the prisoners had told 
him that if he were captured by the Americans they would not hurt 
him. He did not believe it, but was anxious to know the Doctor's 
opinion on the subject. He, at the same time, railed against Colonel 
John Gibson, of Fort Pitt, as one of his most hated enemies, and much 
more to the same purpose. 

The unhappy Doctor was so distressed at the poignant and excruciat- 
ing torments inflicted right before his very eyes upon his friend, and by 
the near prospect of a similar awful fate, that, he says in his " Narra- 
tive," he scarcely heard, much less answered. 

Crawford was now nearly exhausted by his long-continued sufferings. 
His flesh was becoming callous, his nerves dulled by excess of pain. 
He bore all with heroic fortitude, uttering no cries, but calling in low, 
sad tones on a merciful God to have pity on him and give him surcease 
of .suffering. 

For nearly two hours longer he suffered every variety of inhuman 
torture. Devils in hell could devise no more or no worse. At last, be- 
ing almost spent, and his dull, deadened nerves no longer responding 
to any kind of torment, he lay down on his fiery bed. 

The end was near at last. The immortal spirit was about taking 
flight. The savages must hasten if they would inflict the last horrible 
anguish. One rushed in, and with his keen blade drew around the hor- 
rid circle, and pulled off the bleeding scalp of gray hairs. In vain ! 
He had escaped them ! 

No, not even yet ! A hideous old hag — with tigerish heart — had just 
then an infernal inspiration. She hastily screeched herself up to the in- 
sensate victim and threw a bark of burning embers on the raw, throb- 
bing, palpitating brain. 

A pitiful groan announced the success of the monstrous device. The 
fleeting soul was thus cruelly summoned back. The blind and stagger- 
ing victim once more raised himself on his feet — once more began his 
weary round. 
30 



iQ6 Our Western Border. 

Burning sticks were again applied, but in vain, for the flesh had now 
utterly lost all feeling. 

Dr. Knight was not to have the consolation of witnessing his chief's 
final triumph through death over his merciless foes, but was led away 
from the dreadful scene. As he was driven along the next morning he 
passed the cursed spot. He saw the charred remains of his beloved 
commander lying among the embers, almost burned to ashes. 

It was long a tradition among the Indians that Crawford breathed his 
last just at sunset, and that, after his death, his body was heaped upon 
the fagots and so consumed, amid the delighted whoops and leapings of 
his tormentors. It was a veritable " dance of death." 

The touching, harrowing details of this awful death, as published by 
Dr. Knight, was a terrible shock to the whole country. On the border 
there was universal gloom, and a low, sullen muttering of revengeful 
wrath. Crawford was such a prominent, popular leader, that the "deep 
damnation of his taking off" was almost a national calamity. No one 
felt it more keenly than Washington himself, who wrote as follows : "It 
is with the greatest sorrow and concern that I have learned the melan- 
choly tidings of Colonel Crawford's death. He was known to me as 
an officer of much care and prudence, brave, active and experienced. 
The manner of his death was shocking ; and I have this day communi- 
nicated to Congress such papers as I have regarding it." 

But the dolor and anguish of the sad and desolate widow, Hannah 
Crawford, as she sat watching and waiting in her lonely cabin on the 
Youghiogheny, who can describe ! She had parted from her husband 
with a heavy, heavy heart. As one after another of the expedition 
straggled back, how tearfully did she question ! how anxiously did she 
yearn for some tidings ! Missed at the commencement of the retreat, 
with her only and idolized son, her nephew and her son-in-law, was aU 
she could learn. Gone, all gone at one fell swoop ! After three weeks 
of dread and intolerable suspense, she heard of her husband's death. 
Still later drifted to her the sickening details. It were better for her fu- 
ture peace had his loss forever remained an unfathomable mystery. 

" I well recollect," says Uriah Springer, "when I was a little boy, 
my grandmother Crawford took me behind her on horseback, rode 
across the Youghiogheny, and turned into the woods, when we both 
alighted by an old moss-covered white-oak log. 'Here,' she said, as 
she sat down upon the log, and cried as though her heart would break 
. — ' here I parted with your grandfather ! ' " 

That tradition, current in Western Pennsylvania, that Simon Girty 
aspired to the hand of one of Crawford's daughters, but was denied, is 
one of the many unauthentic and untraceable rumors afloat concerning 



Crawford's Last Moments. 467 

the mysterious Girty. Sallie Crawford, who married the lamented Ma- 
jor Harrison, an officer of capacity and prominence, also lost in this ex- 
pedition, was, as stated, a far-famed belle, and considered the most 
beautiful young lady in all that district. 



468 Our Western Border. 



DR. KNIGHT'S ESCAPE — SLOVER'S CAPTURE AND 
ADVENTURES. 

The miraculous escapes of Dr. Knight and John Slover from the In- 
dians are replete with adventure and interest. We wish we had room 
for fuller sketches. The former, after Crawford's torture and death, 
spent the night at Pipe's house and started early next morning for the 
Shawnee towns on Mad river, some forty miles distant. His only guard 
was on horseback, who, after having once more painted his prisoner 
black, drove the Doctor before him. He was a large, rough-looking, 
but very friendly savage, and Knight soon began to ingratiate himself. 
That night the gallant Doctor attempted many times to untie himself, 
but the Indian was wary and scarce closed his eyes. At daybreak he 
untied his captive and arose to mend the fire, and the wood-gnats being 
very annoying, Knight asked him if he would make a big smoke behind 
him. The savage said "yes." The little Doctor soon picked up a 
short dog-wood fork, the only stick he could find near, and slipping up 
behind his guide he smote him on the head with all his force. The 
amazed redskin was so stunned that he fell head foremost into the fire, 
but soon sprang up and ran off, howling in a most frightful manner. 

Knight seized the fellow's gun Wd ran after him some distance to 
shoot, but he-hadrpulled back the lock so violently as to break it, and 
soon gave up the chase. He then to^)k the Indian's effects and struck 
straight through the pathless woods for home. He changed his route 
several times to avoid all Indian trails; and parties. His gun could not 
be mended and he had finally to throw it away. He was nearly starved, 
and had neither food nor gun to shoot any. He came across plenty of 
wild unripe gooseberries, but having his jaw nearly broken by a toma- 
hawk blow, could not chew. He managed, however, to sustain Jife on 
the juice of a weed which he knew to be nourishing. Not being able 
to kindle a fire, the gnats and mosauitoes nearly devoured him. He 
soon, too, got bewildered in a vast swampy district, but still kept strag- 
gling east. Game was very plenty, including elk, deer and bear, but 
none for him. Save young nettles, the juice of herbs, a few wild ber- 
ries, and two young blackbirds and a terrapin, which he devoured raw, 
he had no food. When all this strange food disagreed with his stomach 
he would chew wild ginger. 

On the twentieth evening of his long and solitary wanderings, he 
struck Fort Mcintosh, at the mouth of Big Beaver, and on the next day 



Slover's Capture and Adventures. 469 

reached Fort Pitt, greatly to the astonishment of all and to the huge 
delight of General Irvine, with whom he was a great favorite. He re- 
mained at Fort Pitt till the close of the war and afterwards moved to 
Kentucky. 

The adventures of Slover, the guide, were much more varied and 
exciting. He had lived among the Miami and Shawnees from his early 
boyhood, and could talk their languages. When the retreat commenced 
he, James Paull, Young and five others, became mired in the cranberry 
swamp. After floundering about for a long time they finally emerged, 
only to plunge into another morass, where they had to wait daylight. 
They now struck an east trail and had nearly reached the Muskingum, 
when they were ambushed by a Shawnee party, who had tracked them 
all the way from the plains. Two were killed by the first fire. James 
Paull, notwithstanding a very bad burnt foot, bounded off and made 
good his escape. Slover and the other two were made prisoners. 

Singular to relate, one of the Shawnees, who had aided in Slover's 
capture when a boy, now recognized him, calling him by his Indian 
name of Mannucothe, and reproached him severely for leading a party 
against them. The other prisoners were now mounted on horses and 
started off for Mad river, which they reached in three days. Up to 
this point they had been treated kindly, but now all they met glowered 
upon them in the most savage manner. The people of the first Shaw- 
nee village assaulted them with clubs and tomahawks. One of the cap- 
tives was here painted black, but the savages forbade Slover from telling 
him what it meant. 

A runner having been sent to Wappatomica, the whole popula- 
tion swarmed out to give them a hot reception with guns, clubs and 
hatchets. All three were ordered to run the gauntlet. If they could 
reach the council house, three hundred yards distant, they would be 
safe. The poor fellow who was painted black was made the chief tar- 
get. Men, women and children beat and fired loads of powder at him 
as he raft naked, amid shoutings and beating of drums. He managed, 
however, to reach the council house door, though in a pitiable plight. 
He was slashed with tomahawks, his body singed all over, and holes 
burnt into his flesh with the wadding. 

He now thought himself safe. Fatal mistake ! Pie was dragged 
back to another terrible beating and to a most cruel death. Slover saw 
his body lying by the council house, horribly mutilated and disfigured. 
He also saw and recognized three other dead bodies, all black, bloody 
and powder-burnt. They were all that remained of Major Harrison, 
Crawford's son-in-law ; William Crawford, his nephew, and Major John 
McClelland, who had been fourth officer in command. The next day 



470 Our Western Border. . 

the limbs and heads were stuck on poles, and the corpses given to the 
dogs. Slover's surviving companion was sent off to another town to be 
executed, while he himself was, that evening, brought into the log 
council house and carefully interrogated as to the state of the country, 
the progress of the war, and the movements on the border. He spoke 
three Indian tongues, and had the satisfaction of informing them of 
Cornwallis' capture. 

The next day Captain Matthew Elliott and James Girty, Simon's 
brother, were present. The former assured the Indians that Slover had 
lied about Cornwallis. James Girty, a bad, drunken, violent bully, 
now had the audacity to publicly assert that, when he had asked Slover 
how he would like to live again among the Shawnees, he had answered 
that he would soon take a scalp and run off. It began to look black 
for poor Slover. This grand council lasted fifteen days. The third 
day Alexander McKee commenced to attend. He was grandly arrayed 
in a gold-laced uniform, but did not speak to the captive. Slover was 
not tied, and could have escaped, but had no moccasins. Each night 
he was invited to the war dance, which lasted almost till morning, but 
would take no part in the revels. 

Dr. Knight's guard now arrived, with a wound four inches long on his 
head, and a truly marvelous story of a long and desperate struggle he 
had with the Doctor, whom he represented as a large, powerful man, but 
whose fingers he had cut off, and to whom he had given two terrible 
knife thrusts, which he was sure would prove fatal. Slover told the In- 
dians thpt the Doctor was a small, weak man, at which they were greatly 
amused. The next day arrived the long-expected message and belt of 
wampum from De Peyster, of Detroit, the conclusion well expressing 
the general tenor: "Take no more prisoners, my children, of any sort 
— man, woman or child." 

At a grand council held shortly after, at which eight tribes were fully 
represented, it was decided that no more prisoners should be taken, and 
that in case any tribe so did, the other tribes should seize said captives 
and put them to death; also, that war expeditions should be made 
against Fort Henry, the Ohio Falls, (Louisville,) and the Kentucky set- 
tlements. At another council his death by fire was resolved upon, and 
at the same time twelve prisoners, just arrived from Kentucky, were put 
to death. 

Next day George Girty, an adopted Delaware and another brother of 
Simon, surrounded Slover's cabin with about forty followers, bound 
him, put a rope about his neck, stripped him naked, painted him black, 
and took him about five miles off. Here he was beaten and shamefully 
abused, dragged to Mack-a-chack and bound to the stake, which was 



Slover Escapes and, Naked, Rides Madly for Life. 471 

in a part of the council house not yet roofed. Three piles of wood 
about this torture stake were fired, and the torments were about com- 
mencing, when a sudden storm arose, the rain descended in a flood and 
drowned out the fire. The superstitious savages stood silent and 
aghast. 

A brief respite at least was secured ! The captive was untied and 
seated on the ground, while wild leapings and frantic dances, punctuated 
with blows, kicks and tomahawk cuts, were continued until eleven at 
night. A chief by the name of Half Moon then asked Slover if he was 
sleepy. Yes, he was. The savages wishing a whole day's frolic with 
him on the morrow, he was graciously allowed to retire to a block-house 
under charge of three ferocious, forbidding-looking warriors. 

Poor Slover was bound with extraordinary precautions. His arms 
were tied so tight, at wrists and elbows, that the thongs were buried in 
the flesh. The strip about his neck, just long enough for him to lie 
down, was fastened to a beam of the house. The three warriors now 
began to taunt and harass him. Nov/, if ever, an escape was to be at- 
tempted. Death, no matter how quick or by what means, was far bet- 
ter than a whole day's tortures. The sick and sore, but still undaunted 
captive feigned sleep. Would his cruel persecutors never close their 
eyes ! Two now stretched themselves for rest, but the third lit his pipe 
and recommenced his mocking taunts. Slover obstinately kept his 
mouth closed. 

Slover Escapes and, Naked, Rides Madly for Life. 

At last — most joyful spectacle • — the third laid down and soon began 
to snore. No music sweeter to poor Slover, whose heart was beating 
like a muffled drum. Not an instant to lose, and well he knew it ! The 
heavy beads of sweat which gathered on his clammy brow were wit- 
nesses not only of the intensity of his feelings, but of the violent and 
extraordinary exertions to free his arms. They were so benumbed as 
to be without feeling. He laid himself over on his right side, and with 
his fingers, which were still manageable, and after a violent and pro- 
longed effort, he succeeded in slipping the cord from his left arm over 
elbow and wrist. 

One of the guards now got up to stir the fire. Slover lay dead as a 
stone, sure it was all over with him ; but the sleepy savage soon lay 
down again, and work was renewed. The arms free, the next attempt 
was made on the thong about his neck. It was thick as his thumb, and 
tougri as iron, being made of buffalo hide. The wretched man tugged 
and tugged. It remained firm. He contrived to get it between his 



472 Our Western Border. 

teeth, and gnawed it in a perfect frenzy of despair. It budged not a 
finger's breadth. It was a hard and cruel fate, but he had to give it up. 
The first gray lights of dawn were beginning to penetrate the gloomy 
apartment. He sank back in an agony of hopeless despair. 

No ! He would make yet one more effort. He inserted his hands 
between the thong and his neck, and pulled and pushed with almost 
superhuman strength. Oh, joy supreme ! it yields ! it yields ! and he is 
free at last. It was a noose, with several knots tied over it. The 
sudden reaction almost makes him faint. One quick look at the sleepers 
alpout him, one cautious lift over their bodies, a few cat-like steps, and 
he stands under the still, shining stars, free as the fresh air which fanned 
and caressed his throbbing brow. 

He now glided hurriedly through the town and reached a cornfield. 
He nearly stumbled over a squaw and her children, lying asleep undei 
a tree. Making a circle about them, he reached the edge of the woods. 
Here he stopped to untie his arm, which was swollen and discolored from 
the tight ligature. He felt better at once, and having observed a num- 
ber of horses feeding in a glade as he passed, he' ventured to catch one. 
He was as naked as the day he was born. Picking up an old quilt for 
a saddle, and using his own hide bonds for a bridle, he managed to 
mount the horse he caught, and was off and away. 

That was truly a ride for life. Slover's jaws were set, his teeth were 
clenched, his eyes were fixed steadily to the east, and digging his naked 
heels into the flanks of his horse — which, happily for him, proved very 
fleet and staunch — he scurried along through open wood and past grassy 
level. 

— " Over bank, bush and scaur ; 
* They'll have fleet steeds that follow/ quoth young Lochinvar." 

The sun was but little over quarter high ere he reached the Scioto, 
fully fifty miles off. Smoking hot, and bathed in sweat, the gallant 
steed breasted that forest stream, and cluttered up the thither bank. 
On ! on they go ! No pause ! no rest ! His exasperated pursuers, 
mounted on their fleetest horses, were pressing hard in the rear. It was 
a killing pace, but a saving race. 

By noon his gallant steed began to flag; now it breathes hard and 
fast ; now its eyes look staring and glassy ; and now at three o'clock it 
sinks to rise no more. No time to waste, even on a gallant horse like 
that — faithful to the death. The naked rider at once springs to his feet 
and runs as fast as hope and fear can drive him. Neither did he cease 
his efforts with the dark, but pressed on, ever on, until ten o'clock, 
when, becoming extremely sick and faint, he sank down for a little rest. 

By midnight he was up and away again, thridding his weary way by 



Slover Escapes and, Naked, Rides Madly for Life. 473 

moonlight. At the first streak of coming day he forsook a trail he had 
found and followed all night, and plunged boldly into the trackless wil- 
derness. As he walked he endeavored, with his old Indian habits, to 
conceal his trail, pushing back the weeds or bushes his tread may have 
disturbed. He left no more trace than a bird. All that day he forged 
steadily and uninterruptedly ahead, and the second night had the hap- 
piness of resting by the waters of the Muskingum. A marvelous jour- 
ney, and accomplished with wonderful pluck and endurance ! 

Think, reader, what a fearful undertaking it must have been to run 
naked through a wild, pathless, tangled forest, with vine, bush, briar 
and thorn tree, stretching after to detain him ! Nothing but his ragged 
saddle cloth to protect him ! The nettles stung his feet ; the briars and 
thorns pierced his bleeding limbs ; the vines and low trees scraped his 
back, and the gnats and mosquitoes so tormented him that he found no 
peace by day or rest by night. So intolerable was the nuisance that he 
was obliged to carry a bundle of leafy branches to keep them off. 

The first food he took was a few berries on the third day ; but he felt 
more weak than hungry. He now reached and swam the Muskingum, 
and for the first time began to breathe securely. The next day he fol- 
lowed the Stillwater valley, and the night after lay but a few miles from 
Fort Henry. In his published statement, Slover asserts he did not sleep 
one wink the whole time, so annoying and blood-thirsty were the swarms 
of gnats and mosquitoes. 

He had now earned a rest. He reached the Ohio by Indian Wheel 
ing Creek, opposite the island, and descrying a man on it, he hailed 
him, but so strange and savage was his appearance that he had great 
difficulty in making him come to his relief. The surprise his appear- 
ance caused at Fort Henry, and the hospitable welcome he received 
there, can more readily be imagined than described. 



474 Our Western Border. 



THE MYSTERIOUS MAJOR JOHN ROSE—WHO WAS HE? 

There can be little question but that the officer calling himself Major 
John Rose, was the life and soul of the Crawford expedition, and 
■ — Crawford, its leader, being lost — the fact that the retreat was not far 
more disastrous than it was, was mainly due to the Major's coolness and 
masterful skill. There was ever a mystery about Rose which has only 
lately been solved and made public. It makes a very pretty little 
episode of American history. 

As stated, Major Rose was ever an inscrutable enigma. Every 
one who came in contact with him knew from the character of his face 
and his broken accent, that he must be a foreigner and that John Rose 
was but an assumed name. Everything about him betrayed the well- 
bred foreign gentleman, and it was thought that he must be a man of 
good family— probably a nobleman in disguise, but the Major so well 
kept his secret that even his patron, General Irvine, knew nothing 
definite about him until he re-embarked for Europe. Here he was, on 
a distant outpost, contentedly filling his daily routine of duties, and doing 
it, too, well and thoroughly. 

Neat in his attire, courteous in his manner, quick to conceive and 
prompt to execute, and withal, a thorough and exact business man, he 
was everybody's favorite, but an especial protege of General Irvine. 

All that even General Irvine then knew of him was that early in our 
Revolutionary struggle, a young foreigner, speaking the French and 
German languages, and giving his name as John Rose, sought a com- 
mission in the Continental army. Of himself and previous history he 
maintained an obstinate silence. Failing in his wishes, he then took a 
brief course of surgery, first serving as surgeon's mate, but, on his 
showing quickness and ability, he finally received a surgeon's appoint- 
ment in the Seventh Pennsylvania Regiment, but soon attracting the 
attention of General Irvine, he succeeded in gaining both the esteem 
and affection of that able officer. 

In 1780, on account of a feeling of jealousy excited among some of 
the American officers towards the young foreigner, he left that regiment, 
volunteered as a surgeon in the navy, Avas taken prisoner to New York 
and exchanged the sameyear^; returned to Irvine's command as ensign, 
and was finally appointed his aide, with the rank of lieutenant, and 
taken into the General's family, where he immediately became a great 
favorite. On General Irvine's coming West, Rose accompanied him, 



He Writes Irvine that He is a Russian Baron. 475 

and it is but faint praise to say that in every position in which he was 
placed, he did his full duty, with credit to himself and satisfaction to 
all with whom he was connected. 

When the Crawford expedition was set on foot, General Irvine de- 
tailed his favorite officer to accompany it, and we have seen how well 
he did his whole duty. From Mingo Bottom he returned to Fort Pitt, 
remaining there until the Revolutionary war was fully over. He then 
went East, and served for a time as Secretary of the Council of Cen- 
sors, and was afterwards engaged in adjusting General Irvine's accounts 
with the government at Philadelphia. This done to the General's com- 
plete satisfaction, the Major wrote him that he expected to leave for 
Europe the next week, but would write again before he sailed. 

He Writes Irvine that He is a Russian Baron. 

This good-bye letter came in due time, and in it the Major returned 
heartfelt thanks for the kind and generous treatment he had ever re- 
ceived from General Irvine and family, and expressed regret that he 
had so long kept an important secret from his benefactor. He then 
disclosed the interesting fact that his name was not John Rose, but 
Gustavus H. De Rosenthal, a Baron of the Empire of Russia. He had 
left Russia because of having killed, within the precincts of the Em- 
peror's palace, a nobleman, in a duel brought on by a blow which his 
antagonist had given to an aged uncle in his presence. He had then 
fled to England, and thence to the United States, taking service in the 
Continental army, and finding his way to Fort Pitt in the manner 
already detailed. Through the mediation of his family, the Emperor 
Alexander had at last pardoned him, and graciously permitted his re- 
turn, and now he was about embarking for Amsterdam. 

By the kindness of Dr. William A. Irvine, of Warren county, Penn- 
sylvania, and grandson of General Irvine, of Fort Pitt, we have had 
the pleasure of inspecting a series of highly interesting letters received 
by the Irvine family from Baron de Rosenthal, then advanced to the 
dignity of Grand Marshal of Livonia. These letters are mainly dated 
at Revel, Russia, and abound in expressions of the warmest affection 
and gratitude to General Irvine for his kind and generous treatment of 
him. He seemed to he anxious for the "Eagle and Order of Cincin- 
nati," to which he was entitled, and adds, "the first man himself" 
(meaning the Emperor) "has been asking about it, and desires I should 
wear it." 

In one, of date March ist, 1823, he writes about the value of a tract 
of land in Venango county, Pennsylvania, granted by the State ot 



476 Our Western Border. 

Pennsylvania, in consideration of his valuable services, and has not 
yet given up hope of making a trip to America. 

Very lately we have, by the merest accident, learned that a power of 
attorney had been received in Venango county, so late as 1859, from the 
heirs of Sir Gustav Heinrich de Rosenthal, Captain of the Knighthood 
of the Province of Esthonia in Russia, with authority to sell and con- 
vey these lands, which of late years have become quite valuable. 

Baron de Rosenthal, in his first letter, dated August 4th, 1806, an- 
nounces that out of five children but three then lived, and of these the 
oldest daughter was married, the youngest daughter was at boarding- 
school at St. Petersburg, and his son was studying law at Moskwa. 

The Baron de Rosenthal died in 1830, and so the name of this brave 
and patriotic Russian must be added to those of Lafayette, Steuben, 
Pulaski, De Kalb, and the galaxy of noble foreigners who made haste 
to peril their lives in our Revolutionary struggle. 



Chapter VIL 



GENERAL GEORGE ROGERS CLARK, 

The Hannibal of the West — His Heroic Deeds. 

The forest aisles are full of story; 

Here many a one of old renown, 
First sought the meteor-light of glory, 

And 'mid its transient flush went down. 

One of the most remarkable men this country ever produced was 
George Rogers Clark. Americans have not yet learned to appreciate 
the force and power of his character, or the great importance of his 
conquests. Why such a hero never found scope and opportunity^©? 
his undoubted military talents, backed by an extraordinary sagacity and 
intrepidity, is one of the mysteries of the past. " When," said Joseph 
Davies, in one of his finest orations, " I contemplate the character of 
George Rogers Clark, I feel as did Moses when he drew near the burn- 
ing bush, that I ought to put the shoes from off my feet, for the place 
whereon I stand is holy ground." 

It is scarcely too much to say that but for him the valleys of the 
Lower Ohio and Upper Mississippi would not have belonged to the 
United States at the close of the Revolution. When, therefore, that 
prescient conqueror ran up the stars and stripes over the English fortifi- 
cations of Kaskaskia, Illinois, and Vincennes, Indiana, he virtually added 
the whole of the vast and magnificent territory dominated from those 
centres, to his beloved country. 

General Clark was born in Albemarle county, Va., in 1752, and 
like Washington and many of the most prominent and influential actors 
in the old times that "tried men's souls," was a land surveyor. He 
commanded a company in Dunmore's war, and in 1775, drawn thither 
by a love of adventure and probably by a forecast of its glorious fu- 
ture, he drifted to Kentucky and remained there until Fall, familiariz- 
ing himself with the character of the people and the resources of the 
country. Young as he was, his commanding talents must at once have 



478 Our Western Border. 

inspired confidence. He was one of the few whom all are prompt to 
recognize as a born leader, and we find him temporarily placed in com- 
mand of the irregular militia of Kentucky. He returned East to make 
preparations for a permanent residence in the West, and revisited Ken- 
tucky in the Spring of 1776. 

His second appearance there, as related by General Ray, is interest- 
ing. " I had come down to where I now live (about four miles north 
of Harrodsburg) to turn some horses into the range. I had killed a 
small blue-wing duck that was feeding in our spring, and had roasted it 
nicely on the brow of the hill, near our house. After having taken it 
off to cool, I was much surprised on being suddenly arrested by a fine 
soldierly-looking man, who exclaimed, • How do you do, my little fel- 
low? What's your name? Ain't you afraid of being in the woods by 
yourself? ' On satisfying his inquiries, I invited the traveler to partake 
of my duck, which he did without leaving me a bone to pick, his appe- 
tite was so keen." After satisfying Clark's appetite, Ray inquired of 
the stranger his own name and his business in that remote region. ".My 
name is Clark," he answered, " and I have come out to see what you 
brave fellows are doing in Kentucky, and to lend you a helping hand if 
necessary." General Ray, then but a boy of sixteen, conducted Clark 
to Harrodsburg. 

He almost immediately proved that he had a sagacity and compre- 
hensiveness far beyond the ordinary pioneer. He was not merely con- 
tent like the average run of western adventurers with planting, hunting 
or battling with Indians. The Revolution was now in full progress, 
and his patriotic soul was fired with lofty views — affairs of state and far- 
reaching schemes of daring emprise. His reflections and self-commun- 
ings taught him at once the importance of a more thorough, organized 
and extensive system of public defence and military operations. He 
speedily, therefore, suggested to the Kentucky settlers the importance 
of a general convention in order to form a closer and more definite con- 
nection with Virginia. The proposed assembly was held at Harrods- 
burg, and Clark and Jones were chosen members of the Assembly of 
Virginia, of which State Kentucky was then considered an appanage, 
if not an integral part. Clark's earnest desire was to negotiate with 
Virginia, and should it refuse to recognize Kentucky as within its juris- 
diction and under its immediate protection, then he proposed to offer 
lands to attract settlers and establish an independent State. 

On Clark's arrival in Virginia, the Legislature stood adjourned, but 
he at once waited on Governor Henry, and stated plainly the objects 
of his journey making application for five hundred weight of gun- 
powder. But the Kentuckians had not yet been recognized as Virgin* 



Character of the Border Warfare of that Day. 479 

ians, and the Council could only offer to lend the gunpowder as to 
friends and not give it to them as to fellow-citizens having just claims 
upon the parent State. At the same time they required Clark to be 
personally responsible for the powder and the expense of conveying it 
West. 

This would not suit Clark and he declined ; representing that British 
agents were employing every means to engage Indians in the war ; that 
the frontier people might be exterminated for want of the means of 
defence, and that then the fury of the savages would burst like a tempest 
over Virginia itself. The Council remained deaf and inexorable, and 
declared they could do no more. Clark promptly and peremptorily 
wrote declining to accept the powder on the conditions named, intimat- 
ing his design of applying elsewhere, and significantly added : "That a 
country which was not worth defending was not worth claiming." 

On receipt of this pregnant letter the Council recalled Clark to their 
presence and gave him an order for the transmission of the powder to 
Pittsburgh, to be then delivered to him, or order, for the use of Ken- 
tucky. At the Fall session of the Legislature he obtained a full recogni- 
tion of the County of Kentucky and thus became the founder of that 
Commonwealth. 

Clark now proceeded to Fort Pitt and with seven boatmen embarked 
with the so much needed powder. At that time the whole country 
swarmed with hostile bands of savages, and the greatest caution was 
exercised. They were hotly pursued the whole way, but succeeded in 
making good their landing at Limestone, Kentucky, and in securely 
caching their cargo at different places in the woods. 

Character of the Border Warfare of that Day. 

Clark now began to be looked up to as a brave, intrepid and able' 
commander, and one of the master spirits of the time. We cannot 
enter into details — exciting and interesting as they were— of the many 
adventurous excursions he successfully headed, but shall proceed at once 
to notice the scheme which he had so much at heart. He had entered 
into the hazardous forest life of the borderer with as much zest and 
vigor as the very best of them all. A.ppareled in hunting shirt and 
moccasins, with rifle and tomahawk in hand, he had fought the wily 
savage, hand to hand and foot to foot ; but he plainly had an ambition 
far beyond mere bushwhacking and forest ranging, stirring and exciting 
as the life had proved. His genius soared to a broader sweep, and his 
eager and aspiring soul brooded over masterful schemes of which his- 
followers never dreamed. 



480 . Our Western Border. 

With that practical and far-reaching sagacity which rendered him so 
conspicuous above his fellows, he saw plainly that the borderers were 
playing a losing game, and exhausting themselves in petty skirmishes 
and desperate combats without making any single serious impression 
upon their swarming adversaries. He early saw the paramount neces- 
sity of "carrying the war into Africa" — of making it felt by the sav- 
ages at hotne; by the destruction of their crops, their towns and all the 
"habitations of cruelty." His motto was, "never suffer an incursion 
from Indians without retaliating by a return incursion into the very 
heart of their own territory." 

Looking farther and more deeply he at once recognized the undoubted 
fact that all the savage forays and smitings of the border had their 
inspiration from the British posts and forts which stretched from Ontario 
to the Mississippi. These were the parent fountains whence all the lit- 
tle runs and rills of invasion proceeded. It was from the British that 
arms, provisions, ammunition, and "bloody instructions" emanated. 
Why not strike at the root of the matter by wresting these central posts 
from his country's foes ! Thus only could Kentucky enjoy permanent 
rest and peace within all her broad borders. 

The war in Kentucky had hitherto been a mere border war, conducted 
in the spasmodic and desultory manner incident to that kind of hostil- 
ities. Nearly all the military operations of the period resembled more 
the predatory exploits of those sturdy cattle-lifters and stark moss- 
troopers of the Scottish Highlands. The intrepid backwoodsman would 
sharpen his hunting knife, shoulder his unerring rifle, fill his pouch with 
pone or parched corn, and thus equipped, would start for a fighting 
frolic in the Indian country, without beat of drum or other note of 
warning. Arrived on hostile soil, his roving eye was on the alert ; his 
step grew stealthy as the panther's. With padded feet he would creep 
up to the neighborhood of some Indian hamlet and lie in ambush until 
opportunity offered to steal a horse or shoot its owner. All this was 
promotive of desperate combats and countless deeds of personal valor 
and strange adventure, but it settled nothing. Neither Virginia nor the 
General Government — engaged in a gigantic struggle with all Britain's 
power — could lend any systematic aid. 

Clark pondered over all this; saw where the error lay; sought ear- 
nestly to correct it, and kept looking with his "mind's eye" ever to 
Detroit, Kaskaskia and Vincennes. . It was with plans fully matured and 
with his whole soul strongly imbued with the ambition of reducing these 
posts, that, in the Summer of '78, he dispatched two spies to recon- 
noitre. They brought back reports both assuring and alarming. As- 
suring, because the forts were represented as negligently guarded, and 



General Clark's Secret Advance on Kaskaskia. 481 

the French about them were more inclined to the American than to the 
British side. Alarming, because there was great activity among the 
garrisons, and no effort was spared in promoting and fitting out Indian 
raids and marauds against the Kentucky border. Clark hastened to 
submit his plan of the reduction of these forts to the Virginia Execu- 
tive. He asked small aid, and his plans were approved by both Gov- 
ernor and Council. He received two sets of instructions — one public, 
the other secret. Twelve hundred pounds were advanced, orders issued 
at Fort Pitt for boats, arms and ammunition, and a force of four com- 
panies rigidly selected from Virginia and Kentucky, was soon assembled 
at the Falls of the Ohio, afterwards Louisville. 

General Clark's Secret Advance on Kaskaskia. 

All being in readiness, the intrepid and adventurous little band em- 
barked in boats down the Ohio. At the mouth of the Tennessee river 
they learned from a party of hunters, but recently arrived from Kas- 
kaskia, that the garrison there was commanded by one M. Rocheblave; 
that the militia were maintained in a high state of discipline; that spies 
were stationed on the Mississippi river, and that a sharp lookout was 
kept for the Kentuckians. They learned further that the fort which 
commanded the old French town was without a regular garrison, and 
that the military defences were kept up merely as a matter of form. 
The hunters thought the place might easily be taken by surprise, and 
they were accepted as guides. The boats were dropped down to old 
Fort Massac, about forty miles from the Ohio mouth, and concealed in 
a creek on the Illinois side, and now the fearless little army took up its 
wilderness march through ponds, cypress-swamps, and over deep and 
muddy streams. Game was scarce, and to send out hunting parties 
would expose them to discovery. Drinking water was scarce, and in 
the prairies the wearied men were beaten upon with a fierce July sun. 
On the third day the guide became bewildered. The intolerant Ken- 
tuckians became suspicious and demanded his death. The poor fellow 
begged that he might go a little further under a guard. In a short time 
he joyfully exclaimed: "I know that point of timber," and pointed out 
the direction of Kaskaskia. It was on the 4th of July — not then a 
day of note — that this unflinching band of invaders, with garments 
soiled and travel-stained, and with beards of three weeks' growth, 
secreted themselves near to the town, but on the other side of Kaskaskia 
river. 

That night Clark sent forward his spies, put his impatient command 
in motion, divided it into two parts, one of which was ordered to cross 
31 



482 Our Western Border. 

the river, while Colonel Clark himself should take possession of the fort. 
Kaskaskia contained about two hundred and fifty houses, and its inhab- 
itants were French, who had heard the most exaggerated reports of the 
fierceness and cruelty of the bloody "Long Knives" of Virginia. 
Both divisions met with success. The - unsuspecting little village was 
entered at either extreme; its quiet streets were filled with furious yells, 
and it was proclaimed, in French, that all should keep their houses on 
pain of instant death. In a moment the panic-stricken men, women 
and children were screaming in the greatest distress, "The Long Knives ! 
the Long Knives!" 

In the meantime Clark had broken into the fort and secured Roche- 
blave and his little garrison, but his papers, &c, had been concealed or 
destroyed by his wife. The victory was complete, though not a drop 
of blood had been shed. Observing the great dread the simple inhabi- 
tants entertained for those they had been taught to believe little less than 
savages, Clark determined, for wise ends, to play upon their fears, and 
ordered his wild Virginia troops to rush through the streets with yells 
and whoopings after the Indian fashion. Clark had determined to win 
all the French inhabitants to the American side, so, taking possession 01 
the house of Monsieur Cerre, the richest and most influential citizen, he 
prevented all intercourse between his own men and the frightened citi- 
zens, and treated all those who came to beg protection with the greatest 
rigor and harshness. The wretched and trembling citizens were for five 
days kept thus in a state of consternation. The troops were then moved 
to the outskirts, and the citizens permitted to walk the streets again. 

Clark now ordered the chief of them to be thrown in irons, without 
assigning reasons or permitting a word of defence. After a strategic 
delay, M. Gibault, the revered priest of the parish, obtained leave, 
with five or six of the chief citizens, to wait deferentially upon the cruel 
and ferocious Kentucky commander. The priest now, in the most sub- 
missive tone and posture, remarked that the inhabitants expected to be 
separated, perhaps never to meet again, and begged, as a great favor, 
that they might assemble in their church, offer up prayers to God, and 
take a long leave of each other. Colonel Clark observed, with ap- 
parent indifference, that Americans did not trouble themselves about 
the religion of others, but left every man to worship God in his own 
way ; they might meet in the church if they would, but on no account 
must a single person leave the town. The conference was abruptly ter- 
minated and the deputation dismissed. 



Colonel Clark's Policy at Kaskaskia. 483 



Colonel Clark's Policy at Kaskaskia — Singular Scenes. 

The whole population now assembled in their church, mournfully 
chanted their prayers, and tearfully bade each other farewell. The 
priest and deputation then returned to Clark's lodgings and thanked 
him for the favor granted ; they were willing to submit to the loss of 
their property, as the fate of war, but begged they might not be sepa- 
rated from their families, and that enough clothes and provisions might 
be allowed, sufficient, at least, for their necessities. 

Clark, seeing that their fears had been raised to the pitch required, 
thus abruptly addressed them : " Who do you take me to be? Do you 
think we are savages, and that we intend to massacre you all ? Do you 
think Americans will strip women and children and take the very bread 
out of their mouths ? My countrymen never make war upon the inno- 
cent. It was to protect our own wives and children that we penetrated 
into this wilderness, to subdue these British posts, whence the savages 
are supplied with arms and ammunition to murder us. We do not war 
against Frenchmen. The King of France, your former master, is now 
our ally. His ships and soldiers are now fighting for the Americans. 
The French are our firm friends. Go and enjoy your religion, and 
worship where and when you please. Retain your property, and please 
inform all your citizens for me that they must dismiss all alarm and 
conduct themselves as usual. We are your friends instead of enemies, 
and came to deliver you from the British." 

The total reaction of feeling occasioned by this timely and politic 
speech may be imagined. The deputation could scarce believe their 
own ears. The joyful news soon spread ; the bells rang a merry peal ; 
the streets were decorated with flowers and banners ; the people again 
assembled in the church and sang a Te Z>eu?n, and the most uproarious 
joy prevailed throughout the whole night. All now cheerfully acknowl- 
edged Colonel Clark as commandant of the country, and several Kas- 
kaskia gentlemen even accompanied Major Bowman's detachment — who 
were all mounted on French ponies — to surprise the post of Cahokia 
(opposite the city of St. Louis). The plan was entirely successful, and 
the post was secured without a wound or a drop of blood. 

Colonel Clark now turned his attention to Vincennes, situate on the 
Wabash, fully satisfied that until that important point was reduced, he 
had really gained little or nothing. His uneasiness was great and his 
situation critical. His force was too small to garrison Kaskaskia and 
Cahokia and leave sufficient men to reduce Vincennes by open assault. 
M. Gibault was consulted and agreed, the British commandant at Vin- 



484 Our Western Border. 

cennes having gone to Detroit, to bring the people of that post over to 
the views of the Americans. This project was completely successful, 
and in a few days the American flag was raised over that fort, too, and 
Captain Helm appointed to the command. Gibault and party, with 
several gentlemen from Vincennes, returned to Kaskaskia and reported 
all working charmingly. Clark was somewhat at a loss how now to act 
— as his instructions were vague and general, and the period of his 
men's enlistment had now expired, the objects being fully accom- 
plished. To abandon the country now would be to lose all that was 
gained, and so the commander, always fertile in expedients, opened a 
new enlistment and even issued commissions to French officers to com- 
mand home guards. He then established garrisons and at length was 
free to turn his whole attention to the surrounding Indian tribes. 

The whole narrative concerning his negotiations with the Indian 
chiefs is replete with interest, but, in a brief and summary sketch like 
this, gives us no room for details. It was in this wild and dangerous 
diplomacy \ that Clark's peculiar talents showed illustriously. He 
thoroughly understood the Indian character in all its strength and weak- 
ness, and managed them with a masterful adroitness. He knew exactly 
when to be stern and inflexible, and when to be mild and conciliating. 
The tact and dexterous address with which he played upon their fears, 
their passions and their hopes and ambitions, was truly wonderful. 

Big Gate Won Over — Some Chiefs Thrown into Irons. 

The chief of greatest command and influence at that time was known 
as Big Gate, or by the Indians as "The Grand Door to the Wabash," be- 
cause nothing could be done by the Indian confederacy of that region 
without his approbation. 

A grand "talk" was soon arranged with him by Captain Helm. 
These Indians had been under British pay and influence, and had done 
no small amount of mischief along the border. Clark, in his journal, 
states that he always thought it a mistaken notion, that soft speeches 
were best for Indians ; he had carefully studied the French and Spanish 
modes of dealing with savages, and they exactly comported with his 
own. Under his instructions Big Gate was won over by Captain Helm. 
Letters were sent with belts of wampum to other chiefs of influence, 
" giving," as Clark writes, " harsh language to supply the want of men." 

They were invited to lay down the tomahawk, but if they did not 
choose that, to fight for the English openly and like men, but they would 
soon see their Great Father, as they called him, given to the dogs to 
eat. If, however, they would give their hands to the Big Knives, they 



Some Chiefs Thrown into Irons. 485 

must give their hearts also. This bold language won the pompous chiefs. 
They replied that the Americans must be men or they would never have 
spoken as they did; that they liked such people; that the English were 
base liars, and that they had as much reason to fight them as the Amer- 
icans had. This last clause had reference to an artful exposition of the 
cause of the war between the Americans and English, illustrated and 
made plain to their understandings by means of a fable. It did more 
service, quaintly writes Clark, than could have done a regiment of men. 

Amazing numbers of the Indians soon flocked into Cahokia to hear 
what the Big Knives had to say. They came from regions five hun- 
dred miles distant, and represented Chippewas, Ottawas, Pottawatta- 
mies, Sacks, Foxes, Maumies, and a number of distant and powerful 
tribes living about the lakes and the upper Mississippi, and who all had 
known very little about the Americans, but had been put under the in- 
fluence of the French posts and, after, the British posts. Clark con- 
fesses that he was under much apprehension " among such a number of 
devils and it proved to be just, for the second night a party of Puans, 
or Meadow Indians, endeavored to force the guards off my lodgings and 
to bear me off, but were happily made prisoners. The town took alarm 
and was immediately under arms, which convinced the savages that the 
French were in our interest." 

Following out his principles — never to court Indians ; never to load 
them with presents ; never to seem to fear them, though always to show 
respect to courage and ability, and to speak in the most direct and hon- 
est manner possible, he waited for the assembled chiefs to make the first 
advances and offers for peace. But first, regarding the chiefs who had 
been at the head of the movement to break into his quarters, he ordered 
them to be put in irons. They alleged in excuse that they had no ill 
design, but only wished to know whether the French would take part 
with the Americans or not. This treatment of some of the principal 
chiefs produced much excitement among the rest. The captured chiefs 
submissively desired an interview with Clark, but were refused. They 
then made interest with the other chiefs for a conference, but Clark 
strengthened his guards and sent them word that he believed they were 
all a set of villains and were on the English side ; that they were wel- 
come to abide by the side they had espoused, but that he was a man and 
a warrior, did not care who were friends or foes, and would have 
nothing more to say to any of them. The whole town was much 
alarmed at this bold and arrogant course, and, indeed, considering the 
mere handful of men Clark had, many of his command having gone 
home, it does look like a rash presumption and over confidence on his 
part, but it had its effect, and at once. 



486 Our Western Border. 

To show the Indians that he disregarded them, Clark remained in his 
lodgings in the town about a hundred yards from the fort and seemingly 
without a guard, although he had taken the precaution to conceal a 
party of fifty picked men in an adjoining parlor and to keep the garri- 
son under arms. There was a great pow-wowing among the savages 
during the whole night, but instead of showing the slightest anxiety 
Clark invited a number of the gay French ladies and gents of the town 
and danced nearly the whole night. 

In the morning the Colonel summoned the different nations to a 
grand council, first releasing the incarcerated chiefs and admitting them, 
too, to seats. After the pompous ceremonies were over, Clark prompt- 
ly produced a bloody or war belt of wampum and made them a plain, 
strong, and uncommonly bold and effective speech, in which he told 
them that he knew they were on the British side ; that he did not blame 
them for it, but wished them to fight like brave men ; that he scorned 
to take any mean advantage of the British by asking any of their allies 
to desert them ; that there were none but Americans who would not 
have put them to death for their late bad behavior, but that he cared 
not for them and they were at perfect liberty to do as they pleased and 
go where they pleased, but they must behave like men \ that he would 
have them escorted out of the village and they should not do any mis- 
chief for three days : after that he would fight them. If they did not 
want all their women and children to be massacred, they must instantly 
leave off killing those of the whites ; that there was the war belt to take 
or leave as it pleased them, and it would soon be seen which party would 
make it the most bloody. Clark then said that it was customary among 
brave warriors to treat their enemies well ; that, therefore, he should 
give them provisions and rum while they stayed, but that by their late 
behavior he could not deem them brave men, therefore, he did not care 
how soon they cleared off. 



Extraordinary Scenes at a Grand Indian Council. 

Clark says he watched the swarthy faces of the assembly keenly and 
narrowly while these bold and haughty words were spoken and that the 
whole, finding their hostile designs well known, looked like a pack of 
convicted criminals. 

The principal chiefs now arose and made many submissive and ex- 
planatory excuses, alleging that they were persuaded to take up the 
hatchet by the English, but they now believed the Americans to be men 
and warriors, and would like to take them by the hand and treat them 



Extraordinary Scenes at a Grand Indian Council. 487 

as brothers, and they hoped their blindness would be excused and their 
women and children spared. 

Clark replied that he was instructed by the great men among the Big 
Knifes not to ask peace from any people, but to openly offer them 
peace or war ; that as the English could no longer fight the Americans, 
it was most likely the young warriors of the Big Knives would grow into 
squaws unless they could find some one else to fight. He then offered 
the two belts — one red for war, the other white for peace, when they 
gladly took the latter. Clark then said that he would not treat with 
the late invaders of his lodgings at all, and would not smoke the pipe 
of peace, even with them> until they had consulted all their war- 
riors, &c. 

The chiefs now interceded for their guilty friends, but Clark remained 
obdurate, and was, he writes, "pleased to see them all sit trembling, as 
persons frightened at the apprehension of the worst fate. When they 
had tried their eloquence again to no purpose, they pitched on two 
young men to be put to death as an atonement for the rest, hoping that 
would pacify me. It would have amazed you to have seen how sub- 
missively those two young men presented themselves for death, ad- 
vancing into the middle of the floor, sitting down by each other, and 
covering their heads with their blankets to receive the tomahawk. 
Peace was what I wanted with them, if I got it on my own terms, but 
this stroke prejudiced me in their favor, and for a few moments I was 
so agitated that I don't doubt but that I should, without reflection, have 
killed the first man that would have offered to have hurt them." 

So much for Clark, but this dramatic scene, as well as Clark's treat- 
ment of the Meadow Indians, is given in more detail by others. We 
quote : When the American commander ordered the irons of the chiefs 
who had attempted to abduct him to be stricken off, he thus scornfully 
addressed them : ' ' Everybody thinks you ought to die for your treacher- 
ous attempt upon my life. I had determined to inflict death upon you 
for your base attempt, but on considering the meanness of watching a 
bear and catching him asleep, I have found out that you are not war- 
riors, only old women, and too mean to be killed by the Big Knife. 
But as you ought to be punished for putting on the breech-clothes of 
men, they shall be taken from you ; plenty of provisions — since squaws 
know not how to hunt — shall be given for your journey home, and 
during your stay you shall be treated in every respect like squaws." The 
Colonel turned away to others, but his cutting words stirred the 
offenders to the very cores of their proud, though humbled hearts. 
They took counsel together, and presently a chief came forward with a 
belt and pipe, which, with proper words, he laid upon the table. With 



488 Our Western Border. 

flashing eye and curling lip, the American said he didn't wish to hear 
them, and lifting a sword which lay before him, he shattered the offered 
pipe, with the biting expression that " he did not treat with women." 

The bewildered Meadow Indians then asked the intercession of other 
red men, but the only reply vouchsafed from Clark was: "The Big 
Knife has made no war upon these people; they are of a kind that we 
shoot like wolves which we meet in the woods lest they eat the deer." 

All this wrought more and more upon the offending tribe; again they 
took counsel, and then two young men came forward, and, covering their 
heads with blankets, sat down before the impenetrable commander; then 
two chiefs arose, and stating that these two young warriors offered their 
lives for the misdoings of their guilty brethren, again they presented the 
pipe of peace. Silence reigned in the assembly while the fate of the 
proffered victims hung in suspense. All watched the countenance of 
the American leader, who could scarce master the emotion which the 
incident excited. Still all sat noiseless — nothing heard but the deep 
breathing of those whose lives thus hung by a thread. 

Presently, he upon whom all depended arose and approaching the 
young men, he bade them be uncovered and to stand up. They sprang 
to their feet. "I am glad to find," said Clark, warmly, "that there 
are men among all nations. With you, who alone are fit to be chiefs of 
your tribe, I am willing to treat; through you, I am willing to grant 
peace to your brothers; I take you by the hands as chiefs, worthy of 
being such." 

Here, again, the fearless generosity of Clark proved perfectly success- 
ful, and while the tribe in question became the allies of America, the 
fame of this occurrence, which spread far and wide through the north- 
west, made the name of the white commander everywhere respected. 



Gov. Hamilton Retakes Vincennes— Clark in Great Peril. 

In October a detachment, under Lieutenant Bailey, proceeded from 
Kaskaskia, and one under Captain Helm, from Vincennes, to Ouiate- 
non, on the upper Wabash, and took the post with about forty men. 
The whole British power in Detroit and Canada was very much agitated 
at the reports of these American successes, and the very injurious influ- 
ence they were having among the confederated tribes, hitherto so active 
in their own employ. 

Henry Hamilton, the British Governor of Detroit, accordingly assem- 
bled a large force and appeared before Vincennes on December 15 th, 
1778. The French people made no effort to defend the place. The 






Clark in Great Peril. 

gallant Captain Helm and a Mr. Henry were the only Americans in the 
fort. The latter had a cannon well charged, placed in the open gate- 
way, while the commandant, Helm, stood by it manfully with a lighted 
match. When the British Governor Hamilton approached with his 
troops within hailing distance, Helm cried out, with a stentorian voice : 
" Halt !" This show of resistance caused the doughty English officer 
to stop and demand a surrender of the garrison. Helm exclaimed, with 
an oath, "No man shall enter here until I know the terms." Hamilton 
responded, "You shall have all the honors of war," and so the fort was 
duly given up, its one officer and one private receiving the customary 
marks of respect for their brave defence. 

A part of Hamilton's force was now promptly dispatched against the 
border settlements on the Ohio river. Captain Helm was detained as 
prisoner and the French inhabitants were disarmed. Colonel Clark's 
position now became perilous in the extreme. Bands of depredators 
commenced to appear in the Illinois country. He had heard that Gen- 
eral Mcintosh had left Fort Pitt with a large force against Detroit, and 
presumed all the British forces would cluster about it for its defence. 
But Mcintosh was much like the far-famed French king who "first 
marched up the hill and then — marched down again." His showy 
promenade amounted to nothing, and his ignominious retreat left the 
British free for an effort to recover their prestige among the savages 
so rudely disturbed by the Kentucky leader. 

While quietly waiting, therefore, to hear daily news of Detroit's cap- 
ture by Mcintosh, Clark suddenly learned that Hamilton was marching 
towards Illinois. Supposing Kaskaskia to be his object, Bowman was at 
once ordered to evacuate Cahokia and meet him at Kaskaskia. The 
number of his men was so ridiculously small and his position so remote 
and the probability of speedy assistance so hopeless, that he scarce dared 
expect to maintain his post, but he did all he could, even burning down 
some houses to perfect his defences. For many days, hearing no fur- 
ther news, did Clark remain in the most anxious state of suspense. 
His situation was, indeed, desperate. 

On the last day of January, 1779, however, light broke in upon his 
troubled mind. A Spanish merchant arrived straight from Vincennes j 
and informed the astonished Kentuckian of its recapture by Hamilton, 
as also that he had sent away nearly all his Indians on different war par- 
ties. Almost any other than Clark would have been in utter despair at 
the impotence of his present situation, but the thought of losing the 
country so lately and so valorously conquered, was much worse than 
death to him, and the resolution at once leaped to his heroic soul to 
march directly against Vincennes. 



490 Our Western Border. 

As he writes in his quaint and oddly-spelt diary. " I would have bound 
myself seven years a slave to have had five hundred troops," but he had 
no five, but only two hundred. It was the dead of Winter. The march 
would be horrible, lying straight through what were called "the 
drowned lanes " of Illinois. But still this dauntless and unquailing man 
never faltered for one moment, but conducted himself so gaily and con- 
fidently, that he not only inspired every man of his little band, but also 
the French citizens of the town, with his own lofty courage and hope- 
fulness. He had a strong batteaux, or row galley, mounting two four- 
pounders and four large swivels, immediately prepared and equipped. 
This, with one company of forty-six men, was put in charge of Lieutenant 
Rogers, with specific instructions to go up the Wabash within ten leagues 
of Vincennes and lay there until further orders. 

The Strangest and Most Daring March on Record. 

On the yth of February, having added to his own Spartan band two 
companies of Kaskaskia volunteers, the indomitable Clark, at the head 
of only one hundred and seventy men, set out on his desperate expedition 
of over two hundred miles, through a country almost all flooded and im- 
passable at that inclement season. It looked like "a forlorn hope," in- 
deed, but the secret of the invincible Kentuckian's whole life lies in the 
sentence written at that time in his report to Governor Henry : "I can- 
not account for it. but I still had inward assurance of success, and never 
could, when weighing every circumstance, doubt it." 

It was just this calm and imperturbable confidence, when environed 
by perils that would have completely paralyzed or overwhelmed 
a common soul, which proclaimed the inborn grit and greatness of the 
man. In fact, Hamilton had wholly undervalued and misunderstood 
his opponent's character. Instead of sitting down content in the recap- 
tured Vincennes and wasting his strength and opportunities in petty 
raids and harassing forays which ended in nothing, he should have ad- 
vanced directly on Clark and driven him from Kaskaskia and after- 
wards from the whole country. Clark appreciated the situation far 
better, when he pithily exclaimed : "I knew if I did not take Hamilton 
that he would take me." 

We wish we could give the details of that extraordinary expedition. 
It has, for daring, obstinacy, endurance and unflinching valor, no par- 
allel in history. It deserves to be immortalized. The Winter was un- 
usually wet and the streams all high. It was rain, mud, swamp and 
water almost the whole way. Clark's greatest care was to direct and 
inspirit his men. After incredible hardships, this peerless band of 



Strangest and Most Daring March on Record. 491 

heroes arrived at "the two Wabashes" on the 13th, which, although, 
in ordinary times, three miles asunder, now made but one stream, spread 
out like an impassable lake. The water was generally three feet deep, 
and in many places four or five. The distance through this wide waste 
of water to the nearest high grounds, was full five miles. This, truly, 
as Clark writes in his report — which is as remarkable for its grammar 
as for its orthography — "would have been enough to have stopped any 
set of men that was not in the same temper that we was. If I was sen- 
sible that you would let no person see this relation, I would give you a 
detail of our sufferings for four days in crossing these waters, and the 
manner it was done, as I am sure that you would credit it, although 
almost incredible." 

When Clark saw his soldiers gazing with blank dismay at this broad 
expanse of waters 'before them, he said but little, but his " actions spoke 
louder than words." Stepping briskly to the front, he was the very 
first to plunge in. The right chord had been struck, and, echoing the 
cheering cry of their trusted leader, the whole body of men who had just 
before stood shrinking and hesitating on the brink, followed their leader. 
It was a desperate undertaking — almost too much for human endurance. 
The march became slower and more toilsome. The shout and song 
soon died away, and nothing could be heard on all sides but the splash, 
splash, splash of panting and struggling men. 

The course was by no means over a bottom of smooth sand or of 
graded shells and pebbles, but over mud -holes, sunken logs or brush, 
and unknown depressions, where a single misstep would submerge one 
to the neck, or a stumble cover him with the turbid waters. Here some 
swam or paddled ; there others held up against the current by projecting 
timber while they recovered strength or breath. There was an Irish 
drummer of the party, who possessed an uncommon talent for singing 
comic Irish songs. He was kept by Clark hard at that work, and served 
greatly to enliven the drooping spirits of the amphibious command. 
Another little drummer caused much amusement by floating over the 
deeper places straddled across his drum. 

The progress was still on — slowly and painfully on. At length a small 
island was reached that afforded a little rest. It would not do, how- 
ever, to remain there long, so Clark again led the way with a shout, 
but his example did not so much thrill and magnetize as before. Many 
were so exhausted and hesitating that it was with the greatest difficulty 
they kept along at all. 



492 Our Western Border. 



More Marching Through Deep Waters — Clark's Stratagems. 

At last the eastern shore was reached, and, on the 17th, the lowlands 
of the Embarrass river, that enters the Wabash on the west, a little 
below Vincennes, was reached. It was now nine miles from the fort, 
which stood on the east side of the Wabash ; and every foot of the deso- 
late way was covered with deep water, and there were no provisions. 
Here was a terrible outlook? They could not afford to wait for the 
boat. We will let Clark, himself, tell the end of the whole wonderful 
story : 

"This last day's march (February 21st) through the water was far 
superior to anything the Frenchmen had any idea of. A canoe was 
sent off and returned without finding that we could pass. I went in her 
myself, and sounded the water, and found it up to my neck. I re- 
turned but slowly to the troop, giving myself time to think. Every 
eye was fixed on me. I unfortunately spoke in a serious manner to one 
of the officers : the whole were alarmed without knowing what I said. 
I viewed their confusion for about a minute — whispered to those near 
me to do as I did — immediately put some water in my hand, poured on 
powder, blackened my face, gave the war whoop, and marched into the 
water without saying a word. 

"The party gazed, fell in one after another without saying a word, 
like a flock of sheep. I ordered those near me to give a favorite song. 
It soon passed through the line, and the whole went on cheerfully. I 
now intended to have them transported across the deepest part of the 
water, but when about waist deep one of the men informed me that he 
thought he felt a path. We examined and found it so, and concluded 
it kept on the highest ground, which it did, and by taking pains to fol- 
low it, got to the sugar camp without the least difficulty, where there 
was about half an acre of dry ground. 

" The Frenchmen whom we had taken on the river appeared uneasy, 
and begged that they might go in the two canoes into town that night ; 
that it was impossible we could march from that place till the waters 
fell. Some of the officers thought it might be done. I would not 
suffer it. I never could well account for my obstinacy, but something 
seemed to tell me that it should not be done, and it was not done. 
This was the coldest night we had. The ice in the morning, near the 
shores, was three-quarters of an inch thick. 

" A little after sunrise I lectured the whole. What I said I forget, 
but concluded by informing them that passing the plain, then in full 
view, and reaching the opposite woods, would put an end to their 



More Marching Through Deep Waters. 493 

fatigues, and I immediately stepped into the water without waiting for 
any reply. A huzza took place. As we generally marched through 
the water in a line, before the third entered I halted, and call- 
ing to Major Bowman, ordered him to fall in the rear with twenty-five 
men, and put to death any man who refused to march, as we wished no 
such among us. The whole gave a cry of approbation, and in we 
went.* 

" This was the most trying time of all. I generally kept fifteen or 
twenty of the strongest men next myself, and judged from my own 
feelings what must be those of others. Getting about the middle of 
the plain, the water about mid-deep, I found myself sensibly failing, 
and as there were no trees or bushes for the men to support themselves 
by, I feared that many of the weak would be drowned. I ordered the 
canoes to make the land, discharge their loading, and ply backward and 
forward to pick up the men. To encourage the party, I sent some of the 
strongest men forward with orders when they got to a certain distance 
to pass the word back that the water was getting shallow, and when 
getting near the woods to cry out — Land ! Land ! 

" This stratagem had the desired effect. The men, thus encouraged, 
exerted themselves almost beyond their abilities — the weak holding by 
the stronger. The water never got shallow, but continued deepening. 
Getting to the woods where the men expected to land, the water was up 
to my shoulders, but gaining the woods was of great consequence ; all the 
low and weakly men hung to the trees or floated on the old logs until 
they were taken off by the canoes. The strong and tall got on shore 
and built fires. Many would reach shore and fall with their bodies half 
in the water, not being able to support themselves without it. 

" This was a delightful, dry spot of ground of about ten acres. We 
soon found that fires answered no purpose, but that two strong men, 
taking a weaker one by the arms, was the only way to recover him, and 
being a beautiful day, it did. Fortunately, a canoe of Indian squaws 
and children was coming up to town. Our canoes gave chase and took 
it, aboard of which was nearly half a quarter of buffalo, some corn, 
tallow, kettles, &c. This was a grand prize. Broth was immediately 



♦Without food, benumbed with cold, up to their waists in water, covered with broken ice, Clark's 
troops at one time mutinied and refused to march. All his persuasions had no effect on the half- 
starved, half-frozen soldiers. In one of his companies was a small boy who acted as drummer. In 
the same company was a sergeant, standing six feet two and devoted to his leader. Clark now 
mounted the little drummer on the shoulders of the stalwart sergeant and gave orders to plunge 
into the half-frozen water. He did so, the little drummer beating his charge from his lofty perch, 
while Clark, sword in hand, followed, giving the command, as he thrust aside the floating ice—" For- 
ward !" Elated and amused with the scene, the men promptly obeyed, holding their rifles above 
their heads. — Law' s Vincennes , p. 32. 



494 Our Western Border. 

made and served out to the most weakly. Most got a little, but many 
gave their share to the weakly, jocosely saying something cheering to 
their comrades! 

" Crossing now a narrow, deep lake in the canoes, we came to a copse 
of timber called Warrior's Island \ we were now in full view of town 
and fort — not a shrub between us, at two miles distance. Every man 
feasted his eyes and forgot he had suffered. It was now we had to dis- 
play our abilities. The plain between us and the town was not a per- 
fect level. The sunken grounds were covered with water, full of ducks. 
We observed several out on horseback shooting them and sent out many 
of our active young Frenchmen to decoy and take one prisoner, which 
they did. Learned ihat the British had that evening completed the wall 
of the fort and that there were a good many Indians in town ; our situa- 
tion was now truly critical ; no possibility of retreat in case of defeat, 
and in full view of a town with upwards of six hundred men in it- 
troops, Indians and inhabitants. 

" We were now in the situation that I had labored to get ourselves 
in. The idea of being made prisoner was foreign to almost every man, 
as they expected nothing but torture. We knew that nothing but the 
most daring conduct would insure success. I knew that a number of 
the inhabitants wished us well ; that the Grand Chief, Tobacco's son, 
had openly declared himself a friend to the Big Knives. I therefore 
wrote and sent the following placard: 

" To the inhabitants of Post Vincennes : 

"Gentlemen— Being now within two miles of your village, with my army, determined to take 
your fort this night, and not being willing to surprise you, I take this method to request such as 
are true citizens to remain still in your houses. Those, if any there be, that are friends to the King, 
will instantly repair to the fort, join the " hair-buyer General, and fight like men. If any such do 
not go, and are found afterwards, they may depend on severe punishment. On the contrary, those who 
are true friends to liberty, may depend on being well treated, and I once more request them to keep 
cut of the streets. Every one I find in arms on my arrival, I shall treat as an enemy. 

" G. R. CLARK." 

"A little before sunset we moved and displayed ourselves in full view 
of the town. Crowds gazing at us. We were plunging ourselves into 
certain destruction or success. There was no midway thought of." 

What an extraordinary march ! How simple and graphic the narra- 
tive describing it ! We scarce know which to wonder at most, the com- 
mander who could inspire all his men — and many of them, too, gay, 
delicate and nerveless Frenchmen — with such spirit and endurance ; or 
the men themselves who, environed with such appalling perils, would 
implicitly obey the orders and follow the lead of a man who must have 
appeared but little else than a rash and crack-brained zealot. But the 
sequel was quite as marvelous as the preface, and we are lost in aston- 
ishment at Clark's brilliant and unrecking valor. Truly, considering 



Other Stratagems. 495 

his desperate situation and the smallness of his following, his impudence 
was almost sublime. But rashness and audacity frequently attain mag- 
nificent results, where a halting prudence would fall pusillanimously by 
the way, and so it proved in this most notable instance. 

Other Stratagems — Kentucky Sharp-Shooting — Fort Assaulted. 

Clark now spoke a few stern words to his men inculcating the abso- 
lute necessity of implicit obedience and received assurances that they 
would follow him to death. The astute and crafty commander now re- 
sorted to a stratagem worthy of his genius. All the colors, amounting 
to ten or twelve pair, which would denote a large force, were displayed 
to the very best advantage, and as the low, water-covered plain they were 
traversing was not a perfect level, but had frequent risings of eight or 
ten feet, running in an oblique direction to the town, advantage was 
taken of one of these, by marching and counter-marching through the 
water under or behind it, which prevented any count of the men. 
The colors, however, being fixed conspicuously on long poles made a 
brave and deceptive showing, and as several French duck hunters with 
their horses had just been captured, Clark's officers now mounted on 
these horses and rode to and fro rapidly, the more to deceive the ene- 
my. "In this manner," says Clark, "we moved and directed our 
march in such a way as to suffer it to be dark before we had advanced 
more than half way to the town. We then suddenly altered our direc- 
tion, crossed ponds where they could not have suspected us, and about 
eight o'clock gained the heights back of the town." 

Clark immediately followed up his success with his usual promptness 
and boldness. The strongest posts of the town were seized and a noisy 
firing was commenced. The enemy in the fort were so astounded that 
they could not believe the noise was from an enemy, but credited it to 
some drunken Indians, until one of their men was wounded through a 
port hole. A large number of British Indians made haste to escape. A 
hundred others declared in favor of the strangers, and marched with 
Clark to attack the fort. That singular and self-confident character 
thanked the chief, told him the two parties might become mixed and re- 
quested him to rest quiet until the morning.* 



* Butler's History of Kentucky gives an amusing incident of this siege. Captain Helm, the old 
commandant and then a prisoner, was at the time of the sudden attack playing at piquet with 
Governor Hamilton in the fort. One of Clark's men requested leave to shoot at Helm's headquarters 
so soon as they were discovered, to knock down the clay or mortar into his apple-toddy, which he 
was sure the Captain, from his well-known fondness for that liquor would have on his hearth. It is 
added that when the gallant but bibulous Captain heard the bullets rattling about the chimney, he 
sprang up, swore it must be Clark's men, who would make the whole of them prisoners, though the 
d — d rascals had no business to spoil his toddy. 



496 Our Western Border. 

Clark had made himself familiar with all the defences and their fail- 
ings, and knowing that the fort cannon were on the upper floors of 
strong block-houses, and that the ports had been so badly planned and 
fashioned that they could not fire at low range, he snugged his best 
marksmen close under the walls. Here they were safe. The cannon 
did no execution except to the town buildings, which they much shat- 
tered. The musketry, too, employed in the dark against trained woods- 
men covered by houses, palings, river banks and what not, was equally 
ineffectual, while the Kentuckians' unerring rifles searched out every 
vulnerable spot. In fact, those skilled riflemen finding the true direc- 
tion, would pour in such volleys when the embrasures were open, that 
the British had quite a number of their gunners wounded and could no 
longer stand to their pieces. 

The impudent Big Knives, too, would stand quite near the port holes, 
but out of reach of all missiles, and chaff and abuse the enemy in order 
to so exasperate them that they would open their ports and fire their 
cannon. But as soon as one was opened, fifty Kentucky rifles would 
be leveled at it on the instant, and if the British had stood to their ar- 
tillery, every gunner would have been killed during the night, as the 
best marksmen lay well covered within thirty yards of the walls. 

" Sometimes," says Clark, " an irregular fire, as hot as possible, was 
kept up from different directions for a few minutes, and then only a con- 
tinual scattering fire at the ports, as usual; and a great noise and laugh- 
ter immediately commenced in different parts of the town by the reserved 
parties, as if they had only fired on the fort for a few minutes for amuse- 
ment, and as if those continually firing at the fort were being regularly 
relieved. Conduct similar to this kept the garrison constantly alarmed." 

Thus did the wily and subtle American continue to befool and bam- 
boozle the General, who from the scalp bounties he was constantly of- 
fering, was known on the border as the "British hair-buyer," until he 
was well worked into the belief that he must have the whole of Ken- 
tucky at his doors. 

The time was now ripe for a change of tactics, which came in the 
shape of a summons to Hamilton for surrender. It was declined, but 
Hamilton's true feeling peeped out in a question to Helm. "Is he a 
merciful man ? " quoth the Governor. The attack was now renewed 
with greater vigor than ever, Clark concluding to listen to no terms 
until in possession of the fort. Helm now cautioned the English sol- 
diers not to look through the loopholes, for these Virginia riflemen, he 
said, would shoot their very eyes out. Indeed, seven having been 
actually shot in this manner, Hamilton then was induced to send out a 
flag proposing a truce of three days and a conference. The American 



Major Hay Trembles. 497 

was nonplused to get at the meaning of the demand for so long a truce, 
but finally sent word that he would agree to no other terms than a com- 
plete surrender of the garrison at discretion, and that if Hamilton de- 
sired a conference they could meet at the church. 

Mat. Hay Trembles — A Curious Incident — The Fort Surrenders. 

They met and the conference began. Hamilton agreed to surrender 
if certain conditions were granted. Clark deliberately rejected the 
whole, making quite a haughty speech as if he were already in posses- 
sion, and concluded by assuring the Governor that his troops were im- 
patient to get at all Indian partisan leaders, and to storm the works, 
and in that case they would all be cut off to a man. Not being able to 
agree they were parting, when Hamilton turned and asked politely if 
Clark would be so kind as to give him his reasons for granting no bet- 
ter terms. This was the kind of business Clark was good at, and be 
sure his ability to take the place whenever he wished, was amplitudi- 
nously set forth. 

On Clark's concluding, Major Hay remarked, "And pray, sir, who 
is it that you call < Indian partisans? ' " " Sir," replied Clark sternly, 
" I take Major Hay to be one of the principal." " I never saw a man 
in the moment of execution," writes Clark, " so struck as he appeared 
to be — pale, trembling and scarce able to stand. Hamilton blushed 
and was much affected at his behavior." 

Clark returned to his quarters and said he would reconsider and let 
Hamilton know the result. While all this was going on, an Indian 
scalping party, who had been to the Ohio, were seen returning. Cap- 
tain Williams, with a proper party, went out to meet them. The sava- 
ges, who mistook the whites for their OAvn friends, continued to advance 
with all the parade of successful warriors. Williams' men, outraged at 
this unseemly exultation, fired at once, killing two, wounding three and 
taking six prisoners, one of whom proved to be white. The Indians 
were brought openly before the fort gates ; there tomahawked in full 
sight of the garrison and their carcasses thrown into the river. This was 
done by Clark to show the numerous Indians around that Hamilton 
could give them none of his boasted protection, and to incense them 
against him for not exerting himself more in their behalf.* 

* Clark mentions rather an odd incident in connection with these savages. An old French gentle- 
man was a Lieutenant in one of the Kaskaskia companies, and when Clark ordered the white man 
who had been captured with this scalping party to be put to death, Lieutenant St. Croix stood bv 
with drawn sword, so that he should not escape. The wretch, on seeing the tomahawk raised to 
g-.ve the fatal stroke, lifted his eyes and cried to the old Frenchman, " Oh, father, save me!" He 
was his own son, painted and disguised as a savage. The agitation and behavior of the two recog- 
nizing each other at such a critical moment, may be imagined. At the earnest solicitation of the 
father, the young man's life was spared on certain conditions. 

32 



498 Our Western Border. 

On the 24th, the two commanders agreed on conditions, and the gar- 
rison capitulated as prisoners of war. The American flag floated over 
Fort Sackville, and thirteen guns boomed forth the victory. By this con- 
quest were obtained seventy-nine white prisoners and $50,000 worth of 
stores. It was a masterful stroke, boldly and skillfully executed. Not 
only were the vast British-Indian combinations against the western bor- 
der completely broken up, by which numbers of fighting men were allowed 
to join our eastern armies, but the whole northwestern country remained 
ever after in peaceable possession of the Americans ; otherwise it would 
most probably have belonged to Britain at the peace. Governor Hamilton 
was sent to Richmond, Virginia, and his men to Detroit, on parole. The 
former was fettered and thrust in jail on account of his abominable policy 
in urging savages to greater savageries by offering large bounties for 
scalps, but none for prisoners. This policy naturally resulted in hor- 
rible, wholesale butcheries, for the Indians would actually drive their 
captives within sight of the British forts, and there butcher them for the 
hair bounty. Through the interference of Washington, Hamilton was 
afterwards released, his harsh and rigorous treatment not being in 
accordance with the terms of surrender. 



Clark Wants Detroit — His Many Disappointments and Death. 

There is but little doubt that had Clark now had as many men as 
were starving or idling in some of the western forts, he could easily 
have added the crown to his invaluable conquests by the capture of De- 
troit itself. This was now his daily dream and his most cherished am- 
bition. He sent urgent appeals to Kentucky for more men. With 
this sole end in view, he returned to Kaskaskia. He was only now 
twenty-seven years of age, and his whole soul was fired with the enter- 
prise. "If I had but three hundred men available," he wrote to Jeffer- 
son, "I would have attempted it." He was doomed to disappoint- 
ment, however, and while preparing to set off with even two hun- 
dred at his command, he was advised by Governor Henry to wait until 
he could have a regiment. The auspicious time never came again. 

He was soon after presented with a second-handed sword by the As- 
sembly of Virginia. 7/ arrived safely, but the additional men never. 
" Hope deferred maketh the heart sick," and, finally, Clark proceeded 
to the Falls of the Ohio, where Louisville was soon after built. In 1780 
he constructed Fort Jefferson, on the Mississippi, and led an important 
expedition against the Ohio Indians. He then repaired to Richmond 
to press forward his Detroit scheme. His views were approved, but be- 



His Many Disappointments and Death. 499 

fore he could get a suitable command, came the traitor Benedict Arnold, 
ruthlessly carrying fire and sword into the heart of the State. Clark 
took temporary command with Baron Steuben. He was now raised to 
the rank of Brigadier General, and spent many months in raising a 
force of two thousand men, which was to rendezvous at Louisville. 

But insuperable difficulties arose and he was obliged to content him- 
self with small commands and defensive operations. This was the turn- 
ing point in Clark's life. The decadence of his fame and influence had 
now commenced. In 1782, after the disastrous battle of the Blue Licks, 
he led an expedition of a thousand mounted men against the Ohio In- 
dians. The results were petty, as the Indians would not stand. In '86, 
a new army of a thousand was raised against the Wabash Indians, and 
Clark was given the lead. The expedition proved unfortunate, the men 
mutinous and was abandoned. Several years after he accepted a Major 
General's commission from Genet, in the French service, designing to 
lead a secret expedition against the Spanish on the Mississippi, but a 
revolution soon occurred in France and the project was abandoned. 

Clark's military reputation now suffered an eclipse from which it 
never emerged. He lost much of his popularity and henceforth lived 
obscure and neglected. While yet in middle age, he disappeared almost 
completely from public life, a soured, disappointed and decrepid man. 
For a long time he had suffered from rheumatism, that fell foe of the 
early pioneers. This was followed by paralysis of which he finally 
died, in 181 7, at his residence near Louisville. 

Clark was never married, but although he left no descendants to 
hand down his name to posterity, he will never be forgotten by his 
grateful countrymen. 



500 Our Western Border. 



"THE WAR BELT—A LEGEND OF NORTH BEND." 

Under this alluring title, Judge Hall, of Cincinnati, gives in his 
Romance of Western History a very glowing and amplified account of 
a treaty held by commissioners duly appointed — Generals George 
Rogers Clark, Richard Butler and Samuel Parsons — with the Shawnees. 
In all these treaty transactions General Clark is described as playing the 
most prominent role. But we will first condense Hall's relation and 
then correct some of his errors. 

For several days previous to that appointed for the holding of the 
council, parties of Indian warriors were seen arriving and erecting tempo- 
rary lodges near the fort of North Bend, at the outlet of the fertile Miami 
Valley. The number of Indians was much greater than necessary or 
expected, and they seemed anything but pacific. Irritated by recent 
events and puffed up by delusive promises of British support, they wore 
an offended and insolent air. Their glances were vindictive and their 
thirst for vengeance scarce concealed. The fort was a very slight work 
and the situation of the garrison very precarious. Both parties held 
separate councils the day previous. • That of the Indians was declama- 
tory and boisterous. Deeming their enemy too weak to offer much op- 
position, they had decided on their course and declaimed noisily on 
their wrongs. 

The American commissioners sat with gloomy forebodings. To meet 
the excited savages in council would be to place themselves at their 
mercy; yet to break up negotiations would be tantamount to a declara- 
tion of war. Then Hall follows with an elaborate eulogy on Clark, as 
the master spirit of the occasion, at the expense of his colleagues. 
Clark, he says, treated the idea of danger with ridicule, and insisted, 
calmly and even playfully, that the negotiations should proceed. This 
is as though his colleagues had wished to postpone it. An apartment 
was prepared as a council room, and at the appointed hour the doors 
were thrown open. 

"At the head of the table sat Clark, a soldier-like and majestic man, 
whose complexion, hair and all indicated a sanguinary temperament. 
His brow was high and capacious; his features manly and prominent, 
and his expression, ordinarily cheerful and agreeable, was now grave 
almost to sternness. Clark's reputation for courage and firmness was 
widely known and well appreciated by the chiefs and warriors. On his 
right sat General Richard Butler, a brave officer of the Revolution, who 



The War Belt. 501 

soon after fell in St. Clair's disastrous battle. On his left sat General 
Parsons, and around sat or stood officers, soldiers, secretaries, interpre- 
ters, &c. 

"An Indian council is one of the most imposing spectacles in savage 
life. The chiefs and sages, the leaders and orators, occupy the most 
conspicuous seats; behind them are ranged the younger braves, and still 
further in the rear appear the women and youth as spectators. All are 
attentive, and their silence is impressive. The great pipe, gaudily 
adorned with paint and feathers, is passed from mouth to mouth. What- 
ever jealousy or party spirit may exist is carefully excluded from this 
dignified assemblage. It was an alarming evidence now of the temper 
prevailing, that the usual decorum and propriety were wanting. The 
customary formalities were forgotten or neglected, and an insulting 
levity took their place. The chiefs and braves stalked haughtily in and 
seated themselves promiscuously on the floor. An air of insolence 
marked their movements, and showed a design either to dictate terms 
or fix a quarrel. A dead silence of distrust and watchfulness, but not 
of respect, rested over the assembly." 

The commissioners, without appearing to notice the ominous beha- 
vior of the Indians, opened the council in due form. The pipe was 
lighted and passed. General Clark explained the purpose for which the 
treaty was ordered with unembarrassed air and the tone of one accus- 
tomed to command; he stated they had come, authorized by their Great 
Father to offer the Shawnees peace, and asked some of their wise men 
to speak. 

"A chief arose, drew up his tall person to its full height, and assum- 
ing a haughty attitude, threw his eye contemptuously over the commis- 
sioners and their small retinue, and then, stalking up to the table, threw 
upon it two belts of wampum of different colors — the war and the 
peace belt. 'We come here,' he exclaimed, -to offer you two pieces of 
wampum; they are of different colors; you know what they mean; 
you can take which you like,' and, turning upon his heel, he resumed 
his seat. The chiefs drew themselves up, knowing they had offered an 
insult to which it would be hard to submit, but which they supposed he 
dare not resent. 

" The pipe was laid aside and those fierce, wild men gazed intently 
on Clark. He sat undisturbed and apparently careless, until the chief 
who had thrown the belts on the table had taken his seat, then, with a 
small cane which he held in his hand he reached, as if playfully, 
towards the war belt, entangled the end of his stick in it, drew it 
towards him, and with a twitch of the cane threw the belt into the midst 
of the chiefs. The effect was electric. Every man in council, of each 



502 Our Western Border. 

party, sprang to his feet ; the savages with a loud Ugh of astonishment 
— the Americans in expectation of a hopeless conflict. Every hand 
grasped a weapon. Clark alone was unawed. The expression of his 
countenance changed to a ferocious sternness and his eye flashed, but 
otherwise he was unmoved. A bitter smile was perceptible upon his 
compressed lips as he gazed upon that savage band as they stood like a 
pack of wolves at bay, ready to rush upon him whenever one bolder 
than the rest should commence the attack. Raising now his arm and 
waving his hand towards the door, he exclaimed : ' Dogs ! you may go ! ' 

" The Indians hesitated for a moment, and then rushed tumultuously 
out of the council room. The cool contempt with which their first 
insult was thrown back in their teeth surprised them, and they were 
foiled by the self-possession of one man. They quailed before a cool- 
ness they could not comprehend, and therefore feared to assail. " 

All this is very fine and picturesque, and has been widely published, 
but it is not true history. We are safe in stating that no such scene — 
exactly as the one described — occurred, and that in the scene, just as 
striking, which did occur, Clark was not, but Butler was, the chief actor. 
Mr. Hall seems to have amplified a much briefer article — describing the 
same dramatic spectacle — which was first published in the Encyclopedia 
Americana, and which, for the impressiveness of the scene depicted, 
enjoyed a wide currency. Clark would have been just the very man to 
do such an act as he is represented to have done, and he has earned 
glory enough without there being any necessity for his admirers adding 
one leaf to his chaplet of honor at the expense of his equally-gallant 
co-commissioner, General Richard Butler, one 6f the bravest old flints of 
the Revolution — an officer who was styled by General Lee < * the re- 
nowned second and rival of Morgan at Saratoga; " who was Wayne's 
second at the brilliant dash at Stony Point, and who sealed his devo- 
tion to his country with his blood, a few years after, at St. Clair's dis- 
astrous defeat. 

Butler kept a regular private diary of all the proceedings at this 
treaty, and his account is plain, modest, direct and unpretending. 
Clark, of course, had no part in his being made to figure as the hero 
of this striking scene. He died in 1817, and the Encyclopedia account 
first appeared in 1830. Let us now find out from Butler's unpretend- 
ing journal what really did occur. The General's reputation as a man 
of the very highest honor and the very strictest veracity, would at once 
forbid the thought that he could basely concoct a lie, and that, too, in 
his own private journal, intended for no eye but his own, and which 
lias never yet seen the light, except in the Olden Time, published by 
Neville B. Craig, of Pittsburgh. 



The War Belt. 503 

By this we learn that it was the Indians who first offered the black or 
war belt, and that it was General Butler who offered them in return the 
option of a black or white belt, just as Clark himself did at Kaskaskia 
several years before to the Indian chiefs assembled there. We also learn 
that the Delawares and Wyandots, too, were interested in this treaty, 
and quite numerously represented, for of the whole four hundred and 
forty-eight Indians — men, women and children — the Wyandots had 
eighty-three, the Delawares had forty-seven, while the Shawnees had 
three hundred and eighteen. 

At this grand council, Kekewepellethe, the head Captain of the 
Shawnees, did make a most insolent speech, and at the end threw down 
a black or war belt. He said in effect, curtly and fiercely, that they 
would not give hostages, as required, for the return of all the white 
flesh in their hands ; that it was not their custom ; that they were Shaw- 
jiees and when they said a thing they stood to it, and as for dividing 
their lands, God gave them the lands ; they did not understand measur- 
ing out lands, as it was all theirs. As for the goods for their women 
and children, the whites might keep them or give them to other tribes, as 
they would have none of them. 

The commissioners conferred a short time on this arrogant speech, 
and resolved they would bate no jot of their demands, "Whereupon," 
writes Butler, in his diary, "I (not Clark) addressed them in this short 
manner." We need not give the whole speech, but it was quite as 
crisp and double-shotted as the imperious chief's, and said, in effect, that 
the chief's speech was not only unwise and ungrateful, but flagrantly 
false; that they had granted hostages before, both to Bouquet and Dun- 
more; that they had proved false and perfidious to all their solemn 
pledges, and that they could no longer be believed, but were cruel and 
barbarous murderers. Butler (not Clark) concluded nearly as follows: 

" You joined the British King against us. We have overcome him; 
he has cast -you off and given us your country, and Congress, in 
bounty and mercy, offer you peace and a country. We have told you 
our terms and these we will not alter. They are just and liberal. We 
now tell you if you are so unwise as to adhere to what you have said 
and to refuse these terms, you may depart in peace ; you shall have 
provisions to take you to your towns and no man shall touch you for 
eight days, but after that, we shall consider ourselves free from all ties 
of protection, and you may depend the United States will protect their 
citizens and distress your obstinate nation. It rests now with you. Peace 
or war is in your power. Make your choice.like men. We tell you plainly 
that this country belongs to the United States — their blood has defended 
it and will protect it. You should be thankful for its forgiveness and 



504 Our Western Border. 

offers of kindness instead of the sentiments which this black string im- 
parts and the manner you have delivered it. We shall not receive it or 
any other from you in any such way." 

"I then took it up," adds Butler, "and dashed it on the table. We 
then left them, and threw down a black and a white string. In the 
afternoon the Shawnees sent a message requesting a council; on which 
we went in. Kekewepellethe then arose and spoke as follows: 'Brothers, 
the thirteen fires— we feel sorry that a mistake has caused you to be dis- 
pleased at us this morning. You must have misunderstood us. We 
told you yesterday that three of our men were to go off immediately 
to collect your flesh and blood. We had also appointed persons to 
remain with you till this is performed ; they are here, and shall stay with 
you. Brethren, our people are sensible of the truths you have told 
them. You have everything in your power; we, therefore, hope that 
you will take pity on our women and children. Brothers, everything 
shall be as you wish ; we came here to do that which is good, and we 
agree to all you have proposed, and hope, in future, we shall both enjoy 
peace and be secure.' " (A white string.) 

Butler's speech, doubtless agreed to and possibly, in part, suggested 
by Clark, had settled the whole matter. Mark the contrast between 
this meek and submissive piping and the haughty and defiant trumpet 
tones of the same morning! "'Twas Hyperion to a Satyr." The 
council broke up, and a satisfactory treaty was made the very next day. 
Butler modestly writes : "It was worthy of observation to see the differ- 
ent degrees of agitation which appeared in the young Indians at the 
delivery of Kekewepellethe's speech. They appeared raised and ready 
for war. On the speech I spoke, they appeared rather distressed and 
chagrined at the contrast of the speeches." 



James Harrod, Pioneer Hunter and Indian-Killer. 505 



JAMES HARROD, PIONEER HUNTER AND INDIAN-KILLER. 

This gamy and noble-spirited pioneer is honored by being the builder 
of the first log-cabin and the founder of the first settlement in Kentucky. 
When Boone was sent, in '74, by Governor Dunmore to warn the sur- 
veyors at the Falls of the Ohio that an Indian war had broken out, he 
found the hunter and his company settled at Harrodstown. 

So little is known of Harrod's youth, that history does not even name 
whence he came nor when he migrated. We only know that he went 
to Kentucky even prior to Boone ; was most probably a Virginian ; went 
back to that State, and returned to Kentucky in 1774; fought under 
Colonel Lewis at the Battle of Point Pleasant, and that next year he 
settled, as stated, on the site of the present town of Harrodsburg. But 
the name of the young hunter soon became familiar along the border. 
He was associated with Boone in many a feat of self-denying hardihood 
and generous chivalry. He was tall, brave, simple and modest — had 
read no book but that of Nature; knew no art but wood-craft; hated 
nothing on earth but an Indian and a pole-cat, and never said: "Boys, 
you do it," but "Boys, come on!" His rifle was the longest, the 
heaviest and the surest; his calm, frank eye was never at fault to mark 
the distant game, to meet the gaze of a deadly foe, or smile back truth 
to a friend. Such were his habits of incessant activity, and so great 
his coolness and self-reliance, that he never had to wait for companions 
in his longest and most dangerous expeditions. 

Harrod would often be gone for weeks and even months together — 
no one knew whither or for what end. During these absences his 
industry was untiring; all the game killed was cured and stored, Indian 
fashion, beyond the reach of wild beasts. His knowledge of Indians 
and their ways was such that he would often continue hunting when he 
knew they were in the same range. The proud hunter would not give 
way, but took his chances with the red foe. On one such occasion, he 
perceived a group of several deer feeding in a small glade in the forest, 
near the Kentucky river. He had cautiously approached them, and 
was kneeling behind a tree and raising his rifle for a shot, when the buck 
of the herd suddenly lifted its head and uttered the peculiar shrill whis- 
tle which indicates that it has either seen or smelt danger. 

Harrod was too skilled a woodsman not to know that there was 
another foe present besides himself. He held his breath, when, at the 
sharp crack of a rifle from the opposite side of the glade, the startled 



506 Our Western Border. 

buck leaped into the air and fell dead. The report of Harrod's 'rifle 
followed so instantly that it seemed a mere echo, or rather a prolonga- 
tion of the same sound. A nobler quarry had bitten the dust, for the un- 
erring ball of the borderer had reached the heart of a Shawnee chief, 
who had leaned forward from his covert to fire. Harrod had known for 
several days that an Indian hunting party was in the neighborhood. 

At another time his unwary game was nearly played upon himself. 
He was out upon a buffalo trail leading to the Blue Licks, and he had 
wounded a tough, surly old bull, that had left the herd and stood at bay 
in the recesses of a thick wood. The wounded animal was very fierce 
and dangerous, and the hunter had to approach it cautiously. While in 
the very act of firing, he caught a glimpse of a warrior taking aim at 
himself from behind a tree. He fired and the warrior fired, the former 
dropping instantly to the ground as if killed. He laid perfectly dead, 
while the savage, after stopping to load his rifle — an invariable habit 
with them before leaving cover — now approached — warily enough, leap- 
ing from tree to tree — to take his scalp. Seeing that the body was per- 
fectly still, the Indian sprang forward, knife in hand, but as he stooped 
to grasp the scalp-lock, the long and powerful arms of Harrod were 
locked about him as those from a devil-fish, and with the tightening coil 
of a boa constrictor, the warrior was crushed in his herculean hug, and 
writhed helpless on the ground beneath him. 

The Shawnees had made several attacks on Boone's settlement, he be- 
ing absent at the Licks with a great portion of the men of the station, 
making salt. Prowling parties of Indians had at this time killed their 
cattle, driven their hunting parties and so shortened their supplies that 
the little garrison was reduced to . great straits. At this juncture Har- 
rod returned from one of his long tramps. He proposed to some of 
the men that they should accompany him to one of his nearest depots 
of meat. The risk was so great that none dared venture, so Harrod 
started out alone. He found game very shy and as there were plenty 
of " Indian sign" about, he concluded to get the first meat he could find. 

He now noted a small herd of deer moving as if lately startled, and 
he advanced very circumspectly, and soon saw the prints of moccasins 
on the trail of the deer. He had progressed but a short distance when 
the sudden whistle of a deer, followed instantly by the cracks of two 
rifles, warned him it was time for business. The Indians saw him and 
treed, and while he was peeping cautiously forth for a shot, a rifle ball 
from the right whizzed through the heavy mass of black hair that fell 
over his shoulders, stinging his neck sharply as it grazed past. He 
crouched in a jiffy, and all was still as death for some time, the two sav- 
ages beine on the left and the new one on the right. 



Harrod Idolized by All. 507 

Harrod then concluded to play the cap game — a stale trick enough, 
but now effectual. Placing his famous wolf-skin cap on the muzzle of 
his rifle, he, after some prefatory manceuvering among the shrubs to 
show that he was getting restless, slowly and hesitatingly raised the cap. 
The ring of three rifles was almost simultaneous, and before the echoes 
had died away, that from Harrod followed, and the death-shriek of a 
warrior proclaimed the success of the venture. Another long quiet ! 
The cap was elevated again, but this time only drew one fire, but 
enough ! for it disclosed the exact position of his foes. In less than a 
minute, the savage who had fired, exposed part of his body in sending 
home his wiper. Harrod shot him through the heart. 

The other Indian commenced a retreat, and got off, but not before 
carrying away a lump of the " pale -face's " lead. Harrod proceeded 
at his leisure to dress the two deer his foes had killed, and that night 
entered the station loaded down with meat. 

Harrod Idolized by All — He Nurses a Wounded Indian. 

Harrod's cabin soon became the nucleus of a station ; whither hunt- 
ers, surveyors, speculators and emigrants flocked for shelter and protec- 
tion. Harrod's knowledge and good-will were at the service of all. 
He shouldered his axe and helped the new comers to run up a cabin. 
If they were out of meat, Harrod some how found it out, and was off 
to the woods and soon a fine deer or bear, or the haunches of a buffalo, 
were at their disposal. If the stranger's horses had strayed in the 
range, Harrod's frank and pleasant voice would be heard, "Halloo, 
Jones ! no ploughing to-day ? Nothing wrong, I hope? " " Well, yes 
— the old beast's been gone these five days — can't find him down thar 
in the canebrake — been lost myself two days in looking arter him, and 
I've jest about give it up." "Never mind, Jones, you'll get used to 
that range soon — that horse of your'n is a blood bay, ain't he?" "Yes, 
snip down the nose and left hind foot white, bad collar-mark on the 
shoulders." "Ah, yes; good morning, Jones," and a few hours after 
Jones' horse, with his snip on his nose, is quietly fastened to Jones' 
fence, and Harrod walks in. 

News comes to the station that the savages have attacked the house of 
a settler five miles off and murdered all the family but two daughters, 
whom they have hurried off as captives. The war cry of Harrod is in- 
stantly heard, ' •' Come, boys ! come, boys ! we must catch those rascals. 
We can't spare our girls." The swift and tireless pursuit, the wary ap- 
proach to camp, the night attack, the short, fierce struggle, the rescue 
and the victorious return would then follow. Harrod liked most to go 



508 Our Western Border. 

alone, for he said companions complained of hardships and dangers 
when the fun was just commencing with him, but when by himself he 
knew exactly what he could and what he would do. The Indians, on 
account of this extraordinary love for solitary adventure, had chris- 
tened him the " Lone Long Knife," and greatly dreaded his mysterious 
prowess. 

Once, when discovered by a young warrior, right in the centre of the 
Indian village, he struck him to the earth with his huge fist, and leaped 
for the forest, followed by a gang of redskins. But they had a man 
before them swifter and more tireless than themselves. By the time he 
had reached the Miami, ten miles off, there were only three who fol- 
lowed. Harrod swam the river without hesitation, being fired at while 
climbing the opposite bank. He now took a tree, and, removing the 
water-proof cover of deer's bladder from his rifle lock, quietly waited. 
After hesitating a moment, the three pursuers plunged in. Harrod 
waited until they approached the shore, when, at the ominous crack of 
his rifle, the foremost sank. The other two paused, then turned to go 
back, but before they could get out of range, he wounded a second 
desperately, who gave himself up to the current, and was swept down 
out of sight. The third, by a series of rapid dives, like those of a wary 
loon, succeeded in baffling the white hunter's aim, and at last swam out 
of range. 

The hunter paused to rest, and seme hour or so afterwards, while 
wandering along the bank, Harrod saw upon a pile of driftwood, which 
had collected at the mouth of one of the small runs, some living object, 
which he at first took for a large turtle glistening in the sun as he drew 
his unwieldy body up on the logs to bask. He approached nearer and 
stopped to gaze. Imagine his surprise on seeing a stalwart Indian drag 
his body slowly from the water and finally seat himself upon the logs. 
He had lost his gun, and now endeavored to stifle with moss and leaves 
the bleeding from a severe bullet wound in his shoulder. Harrod knew 
that it was the second savage he had shot. Here was a trial and a test 
of the man ! The foe was wounded and helpless ; to shoot the poor 
wretch he could not now ; to leave him there to die would be still more 
cruel. His big heart melted, and, stealthily making a wide circuit, he 
crept silently upon the warrior from behind. A large tree stood close 
to the drift, which, being gained, Harrod laid down his gun, then 
suddenly stepping into full view, raised his empty hands to show he was 
unarmed. 

" Ugh!" grunted the astounded warrior, making a sudden move- 
ment, as if to plunge into the water again. Harrod placed his hand 
upon his heart, spoke a few words in the Shawnee tongue, when the 



He Nurses a Wounded Indian. 509 

young Indian paused and looked for a moment earnestly into his late 
opponent's face, and bowed his head in token of submission. Harrod 
now examined his wound, helped him to the bank, tore his own shirt 
and bound up the wounds with healing, cooling herbs, and then, to 
crown all his benevolent efforts, when he found the Indian unable to 
walk, threw him across his own broad shoulders and bore him to a cave 
near by which he used as one of his deposits for game. The entrance 
was small and covered with brambles and vines, but as one entered, it 
opened out and presented a smooth floor, with beautiful and fantastic- 
ally-shaped stalactites pendent from the rocky roof. At the farther ex- 
tremity of this rocky chamber a clear, pure stream of sparkling water 
poured into a smooth, round basin, worn into the solid limestone, and 
finding exit through a dark hole in the wall. 

The Indian was all eyes as he was gently laid down upon the floor, 
and in this strange and secluded hiding place, as the story goes, Harrod 
watched and waited on his wounded foe. His interest in the young 
warrior grew by tending him. He brought him meat and cooling 
fruits ; washed and dressed his wounds, and carefully and tenderly nursed 
him back to health and strength. When the young savage grew 
sufficiently able to journey, Harrod gave him a supply of provisions, 
and, pointing towards the North, bade him return to his people and 
tell them how the hated Long Knife treated his wounded foe. Nothing 
was ever heard directly from this warrior again, but Boone, who about 
this time was, with his salt makers, taken prisoner by the Shawnees, 
always attributed the kind treatment he and his men received to the 
good offices of this grateful savage. 

The popularity of Harrod now grew very great. He was a true 
leader, and was soon after elected Colonel, married a Kentucky girl, 
and was universally idolized, but he modestly shrank from all honors. 
Not all the comforts of a happy home, or the endearments of a grow- 
ing family, however, could win him from his absorbing passion for 
long, solitary hunting rambles. From one of these he never returned. 
Whether he met his fate by some " moving accident by flood or 
field;" by some casualty of the hunt, or in some deadly and desperate 
conflict with his swarthy foes, none ever knew, but all, from their 
knowledge of his unquailing intrepidity, felt absolutely certain that in 
whatever shape death came, it was met bravely and unflinchingly. 



510 Our Western Border, 



COMBAT AND ESCAPE OF PETER KENNEDY. 

About the year 1781, a band of Indians came into Hardin county, 
Kentucky, and after committing numerous depredations and killing 
some women and children, were pursued by the whites. During the 
pursuit a portion of the Indians, who were on stolen horses, took a 
southerly direction so as to strike the Ohio about where Brandenburg is 
now situated : while the other party, who were on foot, attempted to 
cross the Ohio at the mouth of Salt river. The whites pursued each 
party, the larger portion -following the trail of the horses — the smaller, 
the foot party. Among the latter was the hero of this sketch, Peter 
Kennedy. 

Young Kennedy was noted for his fleetness of foot, strength of body 
and intrepidity. He was selected as their leader. They pursued the 
Indians to within a mile of the river, the savages awaiting them in 
ambush. 

The enemy were ten in number, the whites six. As they were led 
on by their daring leader in an effort to overtake them before they could 
reach the river, all of his comrades were shot down and he was left to 
contend single-handed with ten fierce and savage Indians. This was 
odds calculated to make the bravest tremble ; but young Kennedy was 
determined to sell his life as dearly as possible. With one bound he 
reached a tree, and awaited his opportunity to wreak vengeance upon 
the savage foe. The redskins, with their usual wariness, kept their 
cover \ but at last one more impatient than the remainder showed his 
head from behind his tree. As quick as thought Kennedy buried a rifle 
ball in his forehead and instantly turned to flee ; but no sooner did he 
abandon his cover than nine deadly rifles were leveled at him and 
instantly fired, and with the fire a simultaneous whoop of triumph, for 
the brave Kennedy fell, pierced through the right hip with a ball. 
Disabled by the wound, and unable to make further resistance, he was 
taken prisoner and immediately borne off to the Wabash, where the 
tribe of the victorious party belonged. 

The wound of Kennedy was severe, and the pain which he suffered 
from it, was greatly aggravated by the rapid movement of the Indians. 
The arrival of the party was hailed with the usual demonstrations of 
Indian triumph ; but Kennedy, owing to his feeble and suffering con- 
dition, was treated with kindness. His wound gradually healed, and as 
he again found himself a well man, he felt an irrepressible desire for 



Combat and Escape of Peter Kennedy. 511 

freedom. He determined to make his escape, but how to effect it was 
the question. In this state of suspense he remained for two years ; 
well knowing that, however kindly the Indians might treat a prisoner 
when first captured, an unsuccessful attempt to escape would be fol- 
lowed by the infliction of death, and that, too, by the stake. But still 
Kennedy was willing to run this risk to regain that most inestimable of 
gifts — freedom. The vigilance of the Indians ultimately relaxed, and 
Kennedy seized the opportunity, and made good his escape to the Ken- 
tucky side of the Ohio. 

Hitherto Kennedy had rapidly pressed forward without rest or nour- 
ishment, for he knew the character of the savages, and anticipated a 
rapid pursuit. Hungry and exhausted, he was tempted to shoot a deer 
which crossed his path, from which he cut a steak, cooked it, and had 
nearly completed his meal, when he heard the shrill crack of an Indian 
rifle, and felt that he was again wounded, but fortunately not disabled. 
He grasped his gun and bounded forward in the direction of Gooden's 
station, distant nearly thirty miles. Fortunately he was acquainted 
with the locality, which aided him greatly in his flight. The chase soon 
became intensely exciting. The fierce whoop of the Indians was met 
with a shout of defiance from Kennedy. For a few minutes, at the 
outset of the chase, the Indians appeared to gain on him ; but he re- 
doubled his efforts, and gradually widened the distance between the 
pursuers and himself. 

But there was no abatement of effort on either side — both the pur- 
suers and pursued put forth all their energies. The yell of the savages 
as the distance widened, became fainter and fainter — Kennedy had de- 
scended in safety the tall cliff on the Rolling Fork, and found himself, 
as the Indians reached the summit, a mile in advance. 

Here the loud yell of the savages reverberated along the valleys of 
that stream, but so far from damping, infused new energy into the flight 
of Kennedy. The race continued, Kennedy still widening the interval, 
to within a short distance of Gooden's station, when the Indians, in 
despair gave up the chase. Kennedy arrived safely at the station, but 
in an exhausted state. His tale was soon told. The men instantly 
grasped their rifles, and under the direction of Kennedy, sallied forth 
to encounter the savages. The scene was now changed. The pursuers 
became the pursued. The Indians, exhausted by their long-continued 
chase, were speedily overtaken, and not one returned to their tribe to 
tell of the fruitless pursuit of Kennedy ! Kennedy lived in Hardin 
county to a very old age and left a numerous and respectable progeny. 



512 Our Western Border. 



AN ADVENTURE OF BOONE, RELATED BY HIMSELF. 

Audubon, the distinguished naturalist and one of Nature's truest 
noblemen — as fond of hunting and the free, unshackled life of the wil- 
derness as Boone himself — passed some little time with the famous Ken- 
tucky pioneer at his home in Missouri, and relates the following extra- 
ordinary incident. We quote: Colonel Boone happened to spend a 
night with me, under the same roof, more than twenty years ago. We 
had returned from a shooting excursion, in the course of which his 
extraordinary skill in the use of the rifle had been fully displayed. On 
retiring to the room appropriated to that remarkable individual and my- 
self, I felt anxious to know more of his exploits and adventures than I 
did, and accordingly took the liberty of proposing numerous questions 
to him. The stature and general appearance of this wanderer of the 
western forests approached the gigantic. His chest was broad and 
prominent; his muscular powers displayed themselves in every limb; 
his countenance gave indication of great courage, enterprise and perse- 
verance, and when he spoke, the very motion of his lips conveyed the 
impression of truth. I undressed, while he merely took off his hunting 
shirt and arranged a few folds of blankets on the floor, choosing rather 
to lie there, as he observed, than on the softest bed. When we had 
both disposed of ourselves, each after his own fashion, he related to me 
the following account of his powers of memory: 

' ' I was once, ' ' said he, " hunting on the banks of the Green river. We 
Virginians had for some time been waging a war of intrusion upon the 
savages, and I, among the rest, rambled through the woods in pursuit 
of their race as I now would follow the tracks of any venomous animal. 
The Indians outwitted me one dark night, and I was as suddenly as 
unexpectedly made a prisoner by them. The trick had been managed 
with great skill, for no sooner had I extinguished my fire and laid me 
down in full security, as I thought, than I felt myself seized by an in- 
distinguishable number of hands, and was immediately pinioned fast. 
To have resisted would have been useless and dangerous, and I suffered 
myself to be removed to their camp, a few miles distant, without utter- 
ing one word of complaint. You are, doubtless, aware that this was 
the best policy, since it proved to the Indians at once that I was born 
and bred as fearless of death as any of themselves. 

" When we reached the camp, great rejoicings were exhibited. The 
squaws and pappooses appeared particularly delighted to see me, and 
I was assured, by very unequivocal words and gestures, that on the 



An Adventure of Boone, Related by Himself. 513 

morrow the mortal enemy of the redskins would cease to live. I never 
opened my lips, but was busy contriving some scheme which might 
enable me to give the rascals the slip before dawn. The women im- 
mediately fell a searching about my hunting shirt for whatever they 
might think valuable, and, fortunately for me, soon found my flask of 
strong whiskey. A terrific grin was exhibited on their murderous 
countenances, while my heart throbbed with joy at the anticipation of 
their intoxication. The crew immediately began to beat their stomachs 
and sing, as they passed the bottle from mouth to mouth. 

"How often did I wish the flask ten times the size and filled with 
aquafortis ! I observed that the squaws drank more freely than the war- 
riors, and again my heart was depressed, when, all at once, the report 
of a gun was heard at a distance. The Indians all jumped to their feet. 
The singing and drinking were both brought to a stand, and I saw, with 
inexpressible joy, the men walk off to some distance and talk to their 
squaws. I knew that they were consulting about me, and foresaw that 
the warriors would go to see what the gun meant. I expected that the 
squaws would be left to guard me, and it was just so. They returned, 
while the men took up their guns and marched off. The squaws sat 
down again, and in less than five minutes had my bottle up to their 
ugly mouths, gurgling down their throats the remains of the whiskey. 

"With what pleasure did I see them becoming more and more drunk, 
until the liquor took such hold of them that it was quite impossible for 
these women to be of any more service. They tumbled down, rolled 
about, and began to snore. Then I, having no other chance of freeing 
myself from the cords that fastened me, rolled over and over towards 
the fire, and, after a short time, succeeded in burning them asunder. I 
rose on my feet, stretched my stiffened sinews, snatched up my rifle, 
and, for once in my life, spared that of the Indians. I now recollect 
how desirous I once or twice felt to lay open the skulls of the wretches 
with my tomahawk, but when I again thought upon killing beings un- 
prepared and unable to defend themselves, it looked like murder with- 
out need, and I gave up that idea. 

"But, sir, I determined to mark the spot, and, walking to a thrifty 
ash sapling, I cut out of it three large chips, and ran off. I soon 
reached the river, crossed it, and threw myself deep into the canebrake, 
imitating the tracks of an Indian with my feet. It is now nearly twenty 
years since that happened, and more than five since I left the white 
settlements, which I probably might never have visited again had I not 
been called on as a witness in a law suit pending in Kentucky, and 
which I really believe would never have been settled had I not come 
forward and established the beginning of a certain boundary line. 
33 



514 Our Western Border. 

" This is the story, sir : Mr. moved from Virginia to Kentucky, 

having a large tract of land granted him in the new State. He 
laid claim to a certain parcel of land adjoining Green river, and as chance 
would have it, took for one of his corners the very ash tree on which I 
had made my mark and finished his survey of some thousands of acres, 
beginning, as it is expressed in the deed, ' at an ash marked by three dis- 
tinct notches of the tomahawk.' The tree had grown much and the 

bark had covered the marks. Mr. had heard from some one all that 

I have already told you, and thinking I might remember the spot, but 
which was no longer discoverable, wrote for me to come and try at least 
to find the place or tree. All expenses were to be paid me and not 
caring much about going back to Kentucky, I started and met Mr. . 

"After some conversation, the affair with the Indians came to my 
recollection. I considered for a while and began to think that after all 
I could find the very spot as well as the tree if it was yet standing. We 
mounted our horses and off we went to the Green river bottoms. 
After some difficulties, for you must be aware, sir, that great changes 
had taken place in those woods, I found at last the spot where I had 
crossed the river, and, waiting for the moon to rise, made for the course 
in which I thought the ash tree grew. On approaching the place, I felt 
exactly as if the Indians were there still and I a prisoner among them. 
We camped near what I conceived to be the spot and waited the return 
of day. 

"At the rising of the sun I was on foot, and after a good deal of 
musing thought that an ash tree then in sight must be the very one on 
which I had made my mark. I felt as if there could be no doubt of it 

and mentioned my thought to Mr. . 'Well, Colonel Boone,' said 

he, ' if you think so I hope it may prove true, but we must have some 
witnesses. Do you stay here and I will go and bring some of the set- 
tlers whom I know.' I agreed and he trotted off, and I, to pass - the 
time, rambled about to see if a deer was still living in the land. But, 
ah ! sir, what a wonderful difference thirty years makes in a country ! 
Why, at the time when I was caught by the Indians, you could not have 
walked out in any direction for more than a mile without shooting a 
buck or bear. There were then thousands of buffalo on the hills of 
Kentucky ; the land looked as if it never would become poor, and to 
hunt in those days was a pleasure indeed. But when left to myself on 
the banks of Green river, I dare say, for the ( last time in my life, a 
few signs only of deer were to be seen, and as to a deer itself, I saw 
none. 

" Mr. returned, accompanied by three gentlemen. They looked 

upon me as if I had been Washington himself and walked to the ash 



An Adventure of Boone, Related dy Himself. 515 

tree, which I now called my own, as if in quest of a long-lost treasure. 
I took an axe from one of them and cut a few chips off the bark. Still 
no signs were to be seen. So I cut again until I thought it was time 
to be cautious, and I scraped and worked away with my butcher knife, 
until I did come to where my tomahawk had left an impression in the 
wood. We now went regularly to work and scraped at the tree with care 
until three hacks, as plain as any three notches ever were, could be seen. 

Mr. and the other gentlemen were astonished, and I must allow I 

was as much surprised as pleased myself. I made affidavit of this re- 
markable occurrence in presence of these gentlemen, and Mr. gained 

his cause. I left Green river forever and came to where we now are, 
and, sir, I wish you good night." 



Chapter VIII 



THE TWO SIEGES OF FORT HENRY (WHEELING.) 

The mothers of our forest land, 

Their bosoms pillowed men ; 
And proud were they by such to stand, 

In hamlet, fort or glen : 
To load the sure old rifle, 

To run the leaden ball, 
To watch a battling husband's place, 

And fill it should he fall. 

Fort Henry, surrounded by the Zane settlements, endured two mem- 
orable sieges from British-Indian forces, one in 1777 (known all along 
the border as the " bloody year of the three sevens,") and again in the 
Fall of 1782. One glance at the map will clearly reveal why Virginia 
and Pennsylvania always suffered so much and in common, from sav- 
age incursions. At Yellow Creek, the Ohio takes a direct southern trend 
for nearly one hundred miles. All west of the Ohio was wilderness and 
Indian country, with the chief towns on the Mad, Scioto, Sandusky and 
Muskingum rivers. East of the Ohio lay a belt of settlements all the 
way from Fort Pitt to the Kanawha, with more sparsely scattered com- 
munities lying back along the various creek valleys. 

At that time this district was called Augusta county, and was claimed 
and considered as part of Virginia. Some of it — a narrow strip run- 
ning north and south, directly east of the Ohio — is now the Virginia 
'• ' Pan-Handle ; " the rest is now Pennsylvania. When the confederated 
Indians of Ohio, therefore, wanted to make a foray, all they had to do 
was to set their faces towards the rising sun until they came to white 
settlements, which, as stated, extended south and southwesterly for over 
three hundred miles. 

In August, 1777, General Hand, of Fort Pitt, received secret inform- 
ation from Isaac Zane — who, with his Indian wife, lived at the Mack- 
a-chack towns of Mad river — that the Northwestern Confederacy, backed 
by the British, were making vigorous preparations to, strike a terrible 



The Two Sieges of Fort Henry. 517 

blow upon some of the settlements on the Ohio. As it was uncertain 
exactly where this blow was to fall, the whole frontier was warned by- 
Hand, and especially Wheeling, the most probable objective point. 
The settlers at the mouth of Wheeling Creek, therefore, (numbering 
some thirty families,) betook themselves to Fort Henry, and kept out 
their scouts so as to be duly warned of all hostile approaches. Fort 
Henry, of which, elsewhere, we give a small but faithful representation, 
was built in '74, on a commanding bluff overlooking the Ohio on the 
east, and the broad "bottom" of Wheeling Creek on the south. It 
was a parallelogram in shape, its outer wall being a stockade of white- 
oak pickets about seventeen feet high, and supported by bastions on each 
corner — the commandant's house, storehouse, cabins, &c, being with- 
in. The Captain's house was two stories high, with the top adapted so 
as to work one small cannon. No regular garrison was ever maintained 
at Fort Henry, but its protection depended on the rifles of the settle- 
ment about. 

Colonel Ebenezer Zane's cabin and outhouses stood at a little distance 
from the stockade, and between it and the high wooded hill. The 
grounds were cleared all around so as to prevent ambushes and conceal- 
ment, and to give full sweep for the one small gun and the defenders' 
rifles. Of course the bastions and stockade were pierced with loop or 
port holes to facilitate firing under cover. A rude affair enough was 
this fort, but suited to the times, and perfectly impregnable to all Indian 
enemies unless having artillery. All border defences were of the same 
rough but substantial nature, and none were ever taken unless captured 
by treachery, the absence of male defenders, or by firing the roof, &c, 
from the outside. A well -served cannon or two would have knocked 
any of them into smithereens in very short order. 

On August 31st Captain Joseph Ogle, who had been out with a 
company of fifteen on a scout all around, returned to Fort Henry and 
reported no cause for danger — not a hostile red to be seen, and no sign 
of any. The savages, however, under command of a crafty leader, 
suspecting that their movements might be watched, abandoned all the 
beaten trails; broke up into small parties, and scattered through the 
woods. Thus it happened that, without discovery, they all concen- 
trated at Bogg's Island, (two miles below Wheeling Creek,) and there 
crossing the Ohio, proceeded, under cover of night, to the "bottom" 
of Wheeling Creek, right under the fort. The hostile array consisted 
of near four hundred Mingoes, Shawnees and Wyandots, well supplied 
with arms, ammunition, &c, by Hamilton, the "British hair-buyer" 
and Governor of Canada. All the border books and the oldest settlers 
of Wheeling have asserted, most positively, that this formidable force 



518 Our Western Border. 

was under command of Simon Girty, the notorious renegade, but this 
is such an obvious error that we marvel how it ever could have obtained 
currency, or how it could so long have maintained an undisturbed place 
in history without refutation. It is utterly impossible that L Simon Girty 
could have been there as its head, because the official records at Fort 
Pitt show that he was then at that post and serving in the patriot ranks, 
and also that he did not desert from Fort Pitt until the Spring of the 
following year, 1778. The Moravian records confirm this, as Girty, 
Elliott, McKee and other minor deserters arrived at the Muskingum in 
February, 1778. If, therefore, this beleaguering force was commanded 
by a Girty at all, it must have been by George or James Girty, who 
were then living among the savages, the former being a leader of some 
influence. Whoever the leader was, however, he was a crafty man, as 
his manner of approach shows. He now disposed of his men in two 
lines across the creek "bottom," concealing them among the corn and 
high weeds. 

Mason's and Ogle's Commands Cut to Pieces. 

Early on the morning of September 1st, a white and a negro were 
out to catch horses and had not far advanced before they were fired on 
by a party of six savages in ambush. Boyd was killed, but the negro 
was permitted to return, doubtless to mislead the whites as to the num- 
ber of the foe and to decoy them to their swift destruction. Captain 
Samuel Mason, who had the preceding evening brought his company to 
the fort, now sallied out with fourteen men to shake up the impudent 
murderers. He soon routed up the six savages and fired on them. 

On the crack of the rifles the entire swarming army arose, and with 
horrid, blood-curdling yells rushed upon the little band. Mason at 
once ordered a retreat, cutting his own way through the Indian line, 
but most of his gallant command were hacked to pieces. Only two 
escaped by hiding beneath the brush and fallen timber. William Shep- 
herd, son of Colonel David Shepherd, fort commandant, had gained 
Indian Spring, where now the Wheeling market house stands, when, his 
feet being entangled in a grape vine, he fell and was immediately dis- 
patched with a huge war club. 

A dense river fog hung over the bottom at the time and those inside 
the fort could neither see the effect of this disastrous conflict nor guess 
at the number of the foe. Captain Joseph Ogle, with a dozen trained 
scouts, now, with singular fatuity, sallied out to the relief of their hard- 
pressed friends. The fierce and discordant yells of the multitudinous 
savages and the shrieks of the assaulted party might, it seems, have sug- 



Mason's and Ogle's Commands Cut to Pieces. 519 

gested prudence, but fearlessly and unfalteringly they advanced to cover 
the retreat of their friends and were at once beset by the screeching, 
murdering demons, and all but the Captain and Sergeant Ogle, Martin 
Wetzel and one other, were killed. In making his escape Captain Ogle 
secreted himself amid a cluster of tall weeds in a fence corner. While 
there crouched, two plumed warriors seated themselves on the fence 
directly above him. One of them seemed badly wounded and cried 
piteously with pain. Ogle saw the blood streaming down his leg and 
fearing discovery, kept his finger on his rifle's trigger so that he could 
fire on the instant, but fortunately he was unseen and the savages soon 
moved off. 

The loss of so many of the very best men of that district was a sad 
blow to the little garrison — those who fell were men of iron nerve, in- 
domitable courage and devoted p'atriotism. Scarcely had the groans of 
the wounded and dying been quieted, before the yelling savages, flour- 
ishing the many reeking scalps, crowded about the fort and demanded 
an immediate surrender. They advanced in two divisions, with drum, 
fife and British colors — the right being distributed among the cabins on 
the bluff which stood between the fort and the high hill back, and the 
left being defiled beneath and under cover of the river bank, close 
under the fort. Their leader, whoever he was, shouted out aloud 
Hamilton's proclamation and offered protection in case of a surrender ; 
if not, an immediate and indiscriminate massacre. 

What was to be done ! The little garrison now numbered only ten 
or twelve men and boys. Two-thirds of their original number, and the 
very best and bravest among them, had been lost. Surely they might 
have been excused for making, then, the best terms they could; but no, 
this heroic little Spartan band resolved to hold out against this over- 
whelming army. Colonel Shepherd at once replied : " Sir, we have 
consulted our wives and children, and all have resolved to perish at 
their posts rather than place themselves under the protection of such 
savages with you at their head." The leader attempted a reply, but a 
shot from the fort put a stop to further words. 

Business now commenced in earnest. A tremendous rush by a large 
body of Indians was at once made. They attempted to force the gates 
and to try the strength of the pickets by a united effort. Failing to 
make any impression, and suffering from the unerring fire from the port 
holes, the reds were drawn off a few yards and a general fire was com- 
menced on the port holes. An unintermittent hail of bullets was kept 
up during most of the day and part of the night, but without any sen- 
sible effect. About noon a temporary withdrawal took place, and the 
heroic and exhausted little garrison prepared for renewed resistance. 



520 Our Western Border. 

To each was assigned his or her post. Of the women, some were re- 
quired to run bullets, others to get ready the ammunition, and others 
yet to cool and hand up the guns. Two of them actually took their 
position at the port holes, dealing death to many a dusky warrior. 
About three P. M. the Indians returned to the attack with redoubled 
fury, half their number distributing themselves among the cabins, be- 
hind fallen trees, &c, while the other half advanced along the base of 
the hill south of the fort and commenced a vigorous fire. This was to 
draw the few and overworked defenders to that quarter, while now a 
strong and united rush was made from the cabins on the bluff, and a 
tremendous effort made to force an entrance with heavy timber, but all 
failed, and a number "of the most daring warriors were picked off by 
sharpshooters. Several similar attempts were made during the after- 
noon, but all were alike futile. Maddened and chagrined by these re- 
peated discomfitures, the savages sullenly withdrew to their coverts until 
night. Just before their retirement, Basil Duke, Colonel Shepherd's 
son-in-law, who had been stationed at Beech Bottom Block-house, rode 
rapidly up to the fort, and had almost succeeded in gaining entrance, 
but was, unfortunately, shot dead in full view of the garrison he had so 
gallantly attempted to aid. 

About nine, the savages reappeared, making the night hideous with their 
demoniac yells and the heavens lurid and sulphurous with their dis- 
charges of musketry. All lights in the fort had been carefully extin- 
guished, and thus seeing well their foes while they themselves remained 
unseen, many a stalwart warrior was made to bite the sod before the un- 
erring aim of the practiced marksmen of the border. Repeated at- 
tempts were made during that night of horror to storm, as well as to 
fire, the fort, but all signally failed through the heroism and sleepless vig- 
ilance of those within. Night passed only to bring another renewal of 
the attack. But the assaulters begin now to despair of success. Sava- 
ges do not take well to such slow work. They would rather operate by 
stealth in small parties and creep upon such places as can be easily taken, 
or where the inmates can be ambushed and lured to destruction with but 
little loss to themselves, and so, after killing all the cattle, and firing al- 
most all the buildings outside of the fort, including those of Colonel 
Zane, they were preparing for one last final effort, when a relief party 
of fourteen from Holliday's Fort, under Colonel Andrew Swearengen, 
landed secretly under the river bank from a pirogue, and. succeeded in 
making an undiscovered entrance. 

Happy and timely relief to the feeble and overtasked little band of 
defenders ! Shortly after, Major Samuel McColloch, at the head of 
forty gallant mounted men from Short Creek, put in an appearance, and 



Deplorable Ambuscade of Foreman's Party. 521 

made an impetuous rush for the great gate, which was joyfully thrown 
open to admit them. The enemy made a counter rush to cut them off. 
All, however, succeeded in making good their entrance but the Major 
himself, who, delaying outside until every man of his command should 
enter, was surrounded and obliged to fly for his life. His mad ride for 
life ; his extraordinary leap on horseback over Wheeling hill, and his 
fortunate escape, we have related elsewhere. 

If the enemy could not overcome the feeble little garrison of ten 
men and boys, what chance had they now when so powerfully rein- 
forced? They at once " accepted the situation," and after firing a few 
additional shots at the staunch little fort, " they folded their tents, like 
the Arabs, and quietly stole away." It has been conjectured that the 
enemy lost in this protracted attack from forty to fifty killed and 
wounded. The loss of the whites, in sallies, &c, has already been 
stated. Not a single person, however, was killed within the fort, and 
only one slightly wounded. This siege was followed, about three weeks 
after, by the 

Deplorable Ambuscade of Foreman's Party. 

Captain William Foreman, a brave and meritorious officer, but totally 
unfit for Indian warfare, organized a volunteer company in Hampshire 
county, Va., and came west to Wheeling, in the Fall of '77, to help fight 
the savages. After the withdrawal of the Indians from the siege of 
Wheeling, just related, the impression was general that they had returned 
to their towns. 

On September 26th, a smoke was noticed at Wheeling, in the direc- 
tion of Grave Creek, some twelve miles below, which caused an ap- 
prehension that the Indians might be burning the stockade and houses 
of Mr. Tomlinson. In order to ascertain this fact, and afford protec- 
tion if any were necessary, Captain Foreman with his company, and a 
few experienced scouts, were dispatched by Colonel Shepherd for this 
purpose. 

The party proceeded without interruption to Grave Creek, and found 
all safe. Remaining over night, they started early on the following 
morning to return. When they had reached the lower end of Grave 
Creek Narrows, some of the more experienced frontiermen suggested 
the expediency of leaving the river bottom, and returning by way of 
the ridge. The commander, however, hooted at the idea of so much 
caution, and ordered the party to proceed. The order was obeyed by 
his own men, including several of the volunteer scouts, but some de- 
clined to go with him, and one of these was a man named Lynn, whose 



522 Our Western Border. 

great experience as a spy, added to his sagacity and judgment, should 
at least have rendered his opinions entitled to weight. His apprehen- 
sions were, that the Indians, if lurking about, had watched the move- 
ments of the party, and would most likely attack them at some point 
on the river. He said that, in all probability, they had been on the op- 
posite side of the river and noticed the party go down ; that they had 
crossed during the night, and most probably were at that time lying in 
ambush for their return. How fearfully were his apprehensions re- 
alized ! 

During the interchange of opinions between Foreman and Lynn, a 
man, Robert Harkness, a relative of Mr. Tomlinson, sat on a log near 
the parties, and often said that the controversy at times ran high. Fore- 
man, who prided himself on being a thoroughly disciplined officer, was 
not disposed to yield to the suggestions of a rough backwoodsman. 
Lynn, on the other hand, convinced of the fatal error which the other 
seemed determined to commit, could not but remonstrate with all the 
power of persuasion at his command. Finally, when the order to 
march was given, Lynn, with some six or eight others, struck up the 
hill side, while Foreman with his company pursued the path along the 
base. 

Nothing of importance occurred until the party reached the extreme 
upper end of the Narrows. Just where the bottom begins to widen, 
those in front had their attention drawn to a display of Indian trinkets, 
beads, bands, &c, strewn in profusion along the path. With a natural 
curiosity but a great lack of sagacity, the entire party gathered about 
those who had picked up the articles of decoy, and whilst thus standing 
in a compact group, looking at the beads, &c, two lines of Indians 
stretched across the path, one above and the other below, and a large 
body of them simultaneously arose from beneath the bank, and opened 
upon the devoted party a most deadly and destructive fire. The river 
hill rises at this point with great boldness, presenting an almost insur- 
mountable barrier. Still, those of the party who escaped the first dis- 
charge, attempted to rush up the acclivity, and some with success. But 
the savages pursued and killed several. 

At the first fire Captain Foreman and most of his party, including 
his two sons, fell dead. The loss is supposed to have been about twenty, 
including the Captain. When Lynn and his party heard the guns, they 
rushed down the side of the hill, hallooing as though they were five 
times as numerous. This had the effect of restraining the savages in 
pursuit, and perhaps saved the lives of many. 

Of those who' escaped up the hill were Robert Harkness and John 
Collins. The former, in pulling himself up by a sapling, had the bark 



The Second Siege of Wheeling. 523 

knocked into his face with a ball from an Indian's gun. Collins was 
shot through the left thigh, breaking the bone and completely disabling 
him. Lynn and his companions carried him to a spring, said to have 
been just over the hill, and throwing together their supply of pro- 
visions, left him in a sheltered position, promising to send a messenger on 
the following day with a horse. Those who were so fortunate as to es- 
cape this terrible affair, made their way in safety to Wheeling. Collins, 
the wounded man, was taken off on horseback the second night, and 
the rest were buried in one grave. 



THE SECOND SIEGE OF WHEELING IN 1782. 

The Fort Henry settlement had another hostile visitation from about 
a hundred savages in '81, but having received due warning of the affair 
from Fort Pitt, *t>ut little harm was done. After destroying Colonel 
Zane's house and all other property they could, they departed as myste- 
riously as they came. 

It was widely different, however, the next year. On the nth of 
September, a body of three hundred Indians and a company of fifty 
British, known as the "Queen's Rangers," led by Captain Pratt, 
marched boldly up to the fort and peremptorily demanded an immediate 
surrender. It is said the whole body was under command of George 
Girty, but this is manifestly an error. Simon Girty himself, it is much 
more probable, was the chief. Girty promised all who would give up 
" the best protection King George could afford," but his summons was 
only scouted and he himself jeered at by the dauntless little garrison. 

Girty delayed his attack till night. All was bustle and activity within 
the fort. The women were busy running bullets, securing children and 
making ready for the expected wounded, while the men, armed with 
knife, spear, rifle and tomahawk, made ready for an obstinate defence. 
The fighting strength, men and boys, did not exceed eighteen, all told, 
while the women and children were about forty. 

Shortly before the enemy appeared, a pirogue loaded with cannon 
ball from Fort Pitt, designed for Louisville, had arrived at Wheeling, 
and a Mr. Sullivan, who was in charge, being a shrewd and experienced 
soldier, well versed in Indian cunning, was selected, with Silas Zane, to 
manage the siege. The regular commandant, Captain Boggs, had, on 
the first intimation of an enemy, ridden off to the nearest forts foi 
succor. 



524 Our Western Border. 

At sundown Girty made his second and last summons, swearing, if 
surrender was delayed, that the fort would be stormed and every soul 
massacred. He was answered with shouts of defiance ; the defenders 
said they remembered too well the fate of Colonel Crawford to give up 
to him and be butchered like dogs. Girty replied that their doom was 
sealed, as he had just taken their express messenger and all hope of 
succor might as well be given up. " What kind of a looking man was 
he ?" shouted Sullivan. " A fine, smart, active young fellow," answered 
the outlaw chief. "That's a. cursed lie," snapped out Sullivan, "for 
he was an old, gray -headed man." 

Girty, finding all attempts to intimidate vain, led on his motley army 
and attempted to carry the fort by storm. He made some furious 
dashes, but the gates and stockades were too strong. The small French 
cannon, mounted on the second story of the Captain's house, was 
thought to be a dummy or "Quaker Gun," and this, because at the 
1777 siege the besieged had then no real cannon, but did mount a 
wooden one. The besiegers mocked at this piece and dared the garri- 
son to shoot it off. They were soon accommodated, fdr just when the 
whole white and red mob were pressing up in dense columns, the little 
il bull dog" was fired, cutting a wide passage through the ranks of the 
affrighted savages. Captain Pratt, who had heard real guns before, 
now shouted out to his swarthy companions, ' ' Stand back ! Stand 
back ! By there's no wood about that ! " and there wasn't. 

The enemy gave way at the first fire, but Girty told off his force in 
two small parties and attacked at different points; now attempting to 
storm it ; now to fire it, and now to destroy its defenders through the 
port holes. The siege was thus vigorously kept up the whole night, and 
a terrible night it was to the plucky but exhausted little garrison, who 
had no moments' rest. One of the bastions having given way, but two 
now were occupied, and these by turn. The women during all this 
trying time, proved themselves heroines indeed. They stood at their 
posts like soldiers of a dozen campaigns, cooling and loading the rifles 
for the men. No timid shrieks escaped them j no maidenly fears caused 
them to shrink from their self-imposed task. 

A Wooden Monster— Betty Zane's "Gunpowder Exploit." 

At an early hour the savages descried the pirogue with the cannon 
ball, and a happy thought possessed them. Why not rig up a cannon 
and utilize all these missiles ! No sooner thought than they set to 
work. Procuring a stout log of sufficient size and length, these simple- 
minded men secretly split it open in the woods, hollowed it out, and 



A Wooden Monster. 525 

then fastened it securely together again with chains and bars from 
Reikart's blacksmith shop, which stood outside the walls. The im- 
promptu piece was then heavily charged with ball and powder, and first 
announcing that their cannon had at length arrived, the torch was. ap- 
plied, when' whiz ! boom ! chebang ! the whole contraption blew up, 
carrying with it a half-dozen gaping savages, who had clustered about 
to witness the discharge. A wooden gun was not tried again. 

During the night a large number of Indians posted themselves in the 
loft of a house which stood thirty or forty yards north of the fort, and 
amused themselves by dancing and yelling, making night hideous with 
their discordant revelry. Thinking to dislodge them, several ineffect- 
ual attempts were made with grape shot, but that failing, full -sized ball 
were fired, which cut off a sleeper, and let the whole mass down to- 
gether. The cannon was fired some sixteen times during the first night, 
and must have done considerable execution. 

It will be remembered that Colonel Ebenezer Zane's cabin and out- 
houses stood outside and to the north of the fort. His property had 
been burned in the 1777 siege, and very much damaged at the Indian 
visitation of the year before, and he resolved that if Indians came 
again, he would defend his property to the last. To this end, he had 
fortified it, so as to make it at least bullet-proof and very dangerous of 
approach. In the house with him were now several members of his 
family, including his young and beautiful sister Betty, and a black 
servant by the name of Sam. So effectually had they defended Zane's 
property, that it was, as yet, safe, but they had run out of powder, and 
none to be had except from the fort. 

It was now that an event occurred much celebrated in border 
chronicles, and which goes by the name of " Betty Zane's Gunpowder 
Exploit." It has been told in various ways : the credit has been given 
to different persons, and the event attributed to different years. The 
common version, taken originally from Doddridge and Withers, is that 
the stock of gunpowder in the fort having been exhausted, it was de- 
termined to send for a keg of powder known to be in the house of 
Ebenezer Zane, about sixty yards distant from the fort. The Colonel 
explained the necessity to his men, and unwilling to order men on so 
hazardous an expedition, inquired if any would volunteer. Three or 
four young men promptly stepped forward for the desperate service. 
Zane said the weak state of the garrison would not allow of the absence 
of more than one, and a discussion now ensued as to who was to be 
the one. At this crisis, Elizabeth, a young, lively and spirited sister of 
the Colonel's, who had been carefully educated at Philadelphia, and had 
lately returned home, stepped boldly forward and desired that she 



526 Our Western Border, 

might be allowed to execute the service. The proposition appeared at 
first so extravagant that it at once met with a peremptory refusal, but 
she earnestly renewed and pressed the request, and all the remon- 
strances of her relatives failed to dissuade her. Her main argument 
was that the garrison was very weak ; that none of the defenders could 
be spared ; that she was as fleet as any of them, and that if it were her 
doom to fall, her loss would not be felt. 

Her petition was at length granted, and the gate opened for her to 
pass out. The opening of the gate arrested the attention of several In- 
dians straggling or lurking about, and their eyes were fastened upon 
the young girl as she bounded across the interval, but the contemptuous 
expression of "squaw! squaw!" arose, and she was allowed to pass 
without special hindrance. When she reappeared, however, with the 
powder in her arms, the savages, suspecting by this time the nature of her 
hazardous errand, rushed tumultuously after her, elevated their pieces and 
fired a volley at the fearless young girl as she ran like a deer across the 
exposed green and bounded into the arms of those who stood ready to 
receive her. All, happily, flew wide of the mark, and the heroic Betty 
Zane had the honor of saving the garrison. 

That some such event as the above really happened admits of no ques- 
tion, but as to who did the deed, or whether or not there were two gun- 
powder exploits, is a serious matter of doubt. All the old books and 
the original pioneers gave the credit of the exploit to Betty Zane. The 
chief error, however, in the old versions of the affair, lay in stating that 
the powder was wanted at the fort, and that it was obtained from Zane's 
house. The fact is directly contrary, and far more in accordance with 
probability. The powder was exhausted at Zane's house on account of 
its prolonged defence, and a messenger was obliged, as would be natural, 
to go to the fort for a new supply. 

To this day, at Wheeling, there exists doubt and controversy as to who 
performed the "Gunpowder Exploit." Kiernan, Withers and De Hass 
all give the credit of the feat to Elizabeth Zane, but the latter admits 
that the more he prosecuted his inquiries, the more the mystery thick- 
ened. The counter claim is made by the famous Mrs. Cruger, nee 
Lydia Boggs, on behalf of Molly Scott. She is a very important wit- 
ness; one entirely reliable, and had unusual opportunities of knowing, 
since she was the daughter of Captain Boggs, the commandant at the 
time, and helped to serve the powder. 

Mrs. Cruger, so late as 1849, ma d e an affidavit in relation to the 
siege of 1782, which states, in effect, that there were three hundred In- 
dians and fifty British soldiers, known as the Queen's Rangers, all under 
command of the renegade Girty; that, during a temporary withdrawal 



Betty Zane's Gunpowder Exploit. 527 

of the foe, those within the fort observed a female leaving Colonel 
Zane's house and making for the southern gate. She entered in safety, 
and ' ' that person was none other than Molly Scott, and the object of 
her mission was to procure powder for those who defended Zane's dwell- 
ing. The undersigned was then in her seventeenth year; saw Molly 
Scott enter the fort; assisted her in getting the powder; saw her leave, 
and avers, most positively, that she, and she alone, accomplished the 
feat referred to." She swears, further, that as her father had left for 
aid at the commencement of the attack, her mother directed her, Lydia, 
as being the oldest child at home, to go with Molly Scott to the store- 
house and give her what ammunition she wanted; that she "assisted 
said Molly Scott in placing the powder in her apron," and that Eliza- 
beth Zane, whom she knew as a woman brave, generous and single- 
hearted, was at that time at the residence of her father, near Washing- 
ton, Pa. Mrs. Cruger states, further, that at the time, the achievement 
was not considered extraordinary ; that those were times when woman's 
heart was nerved to "do or die," and that more than one within that 
little stockade would have unhesitatingly done the same thing, if needed. 

This affidavit, coming from a reliable living authority, and one per- 
sonally assisting in the famed "exploit," would seem to settle the ques- 
tion so far as the siege of 1782 is concerned. We leave the matter for 
readers to decide, merely adding the following, from De Hass: "The 
proof in favor of Elizabeth Zane is most abundant. It is barely proba- 
ble there may have been two gunpowder incidents. One of the par- 
ties may have carried powder at the first, and the other at the second. 
This seems the only way in which the conflicting claims can be recon- 
ciled." 

The enemy made more than twenty attempts to fire the stockade by 
heaping bundles of hemp against the walls and setting fire to them; but, 
fortunately, the hemp was wet and would not burn readily. Dry wood and 
other combustibles succeeded no better. Night now closed in, and the at- 
tack was maintained without intermission until daybreak. Lydia Boggs 
(afterwards Mrs. General Cruger) was an inmate of the fort during the 
whole siege, and was constantly employed in moulding bullets and serving 
out ammunition. She says that the pickets were so decayed in places, they 
could not have withstood a united pressure from the foe, and that dur- 
ing this night many, at one corner, where the hottest fire had been kept 
up, gave way and fell; but, fortunately, the mishap was concealed from 
the enemy by a heavy growth of peach trees on the outside ; also, that 
just before day, some one who was seen stealthily approaching the sallv 
gate, was fired upon and wounded. The piteous cries from the wound 
and fright, induced the besieged to let him in, and he proved to be a 



528 Our Western Border. 

negro, who asserted he was a deserter, and who gave much information 
of the enemy, true or false. Thinking he was only a spy or decoy, the 
intruder was handcuffed and committed to Lydia's care, who stood ready 
to tomahawk him in case he attempted an escape. 

Shortly after sunrise the next day the enemy, despairing of success, 
commenced killing all the cattle, burning cabins, &c. Very soon a 
long, peculiar whoop from an Indian spy, who had been sent out to 
watch the approach of any relief party, was understood by the well- 
trained hunters in the fort to mean a signal for retreat. Scarcely had 
the echoes of his shrill voice ceased among the Ohio hills before the 
entire hostile array moved rapidly to the river, and so the long and try- 
ing siege was over. In less than an hour, Captains Boggs, Swearengen 
and Williamson rode up with seventy mounted men, and great was the 
rejoicing of the gallant but exhausted little garrison. 

After raising the siege, a large division of the enemy marched against 
Rice's Fort, on Buffalo Creek. The savages surrounded the fort and 
demanded a surrender, crying " Give up ! give up ! too many Injun ! 
Injun too big ! no kill !" But the defenders shouted bravely back, 
" come on, you cowards ! Show us your yellow hides, and we'll make 
holes in them for you !" This, however, was only a game of bluff, for 
the whole garrison consisted of only six, the rest having gone over the 
mountain's to buy powder. The savages now set fire to a barn, and by 
its light kept up a constant fire until morning, when, finding the little 
fort prepared for defence, they decamped, having lost four warriors — 
three killed by the very first fire from the port holes. 



The Northwestern Campaign, 529 



THE NORTHWESTERN CAMPAIGN, 

The surrender, in October, 1781, of Lord Cornwaliis' army to the 
French- American forces at Yorktown, was generally deemed the finish 
of our Revolutionary war, but it was really only "the beginDiag of the 
end." It is true that in November of the next year provisional articles 
of peace bad been signed at Paris; that on the 20th of January follow- 
ing an armistice followed; that on April 19th, 1783, peace was pro- 
claimed to our armies, and that, on the 3d of September, a definite treaty 
was concluded ; yet still, for many years to come, hostilities were vir- 
tually kept up between the outposts of the two nations. On the pretext 
that the provisions of the treaty of peace were not complied with by 
the United States, the British still held on to their forts in the North 
and Northwest, and continued to hold them down to 1 796. 

Meanwhile, hostilities with the Indians were, with smaller and greater 
intervals and violence, still kept up. In 1782, as stated, occurred the 
massacre of the Moravians, which unhallowed atrocity was followed by 
Crawford's expedition and defeat, the invasion of Kentucky and the 
battle of Blue Licks, the second siege of Wheeling and the burning of 
Hannastown, Pennsylvania. For several years afterwards the Indians, 
led by tory renegades like Girty, Elliott and McKee, and instigated 
and supplied by the British from their forts on the Maumee and De- 
troit, kept up their harassing depredations. In 1787 the northwest ter- 
ritory had been organized, and General Arthur St. Clair appointed 
Governor. For three years the seat of this territorial government was 
located at Marietta — the first American settlement made in Ohio — but 
in 1790 Governor St. Clair, with the officers of the infant government, 
descended the Ohio and located at Fort Washington, then growing into 
the town of Cincinnati. 

The troubles with the western tribes, meanwhile, had grown so grave 
and their depredations had became so grievous and harassing as to de- 
mand the most serious notice of our government. Then commenced 
what is known in our history as the Northwestern Campaign, embrac- 
ing the three separate expeditions of General Harmar, in 1790, of Gen- 
eral St. Clair, in '91, and of Mad Anthony Wagne, in '94, his victory 
at the battle of the Fallen Timbers, forever crushing the power and 
bursting asunder the coherence of the Indian Confederacy. 



34 



530 Our Western Border. 



EXPEDITION OF GENERAL HARMAR AGAINST THE 
MIAMI TOWNS. 

On the last day of September, 1790, General Harmar left Fort Wash- 
ington with a raw, undisciplined and badly -equipped force of fourteen 
hundred men, consisting of three hundred regulars, and the rest Ken- 
tucky and Pennsylvania militia. His object was the Miami villages. 
He had many brave and experienced fighters under him, but the com- 
mand, as a whole, lacked compactness, was ill-assorted and all proper 
esprit du corps prevented by jealousies and dissensions. The country 
was rough, swampy, and in many places almost impassable, so that sev- 
enteen days were consumed before the main body could come within 
striking distance of the enemy. In the meantime, the great scarcity 
of provisions rendered it necessary for the General to sweep the forest 
with numerous small detachments, and as the woods swarmed with rov- 
ing bands of Indians, most of these parties were cut off. 

At length, the main body, considerably reduced by this petty war- 
fare, came within a few miles of their towns. Here the General ordered 
Captain Armstrong, at the head of thirty regulars, and Colonel Hardin, 
of Kentucky, with several hundred militia, to advance and reconnoitre. 
In the execution of this order they suddenly found themselves in the 
presence of a superior number of Indians, who suddenly arose from 
the bushes and opened a heavy fire upon them. The militia instantly 
gave way ; while the regulars, accustomed to more orderly movements, 
attempted a regular retreat. The enemy rushed upon them, tomahawk 
in hand, and completely surrounded them. The regulars attempted to 
open a passage with the bayonet, but in vain. They were all destroyed, 
with the exception of their Captain and one Lieutenant. 

Captain Armstrong was remarkably stout and active, and succeeded 
in breaking through the enemy's line, although not without receiving 
several severe wounds. Finding himself hard pressed, he plunged into 
a deep and miry swamp, where he lay concealed during the whole 
night, within two hundred yards of the Indian camp, and witnessed the 
dances and joyous festivity with which they celebrated their victory. 
The Lieutenant (Hartshorn) escaped by accidentally stumbling over a 
log and falling into a pit, where he lay concealed by the rank grass 
which grew around him. The loss of the militia was very trifling. 
Notwithstanding this severe check, Harmar advanced with the main 
body upon their villages, which he found deserted and in flames, the 



Expedition of General Harmar. 531 

Indians having fired them with their own hands. Here he found seve- 
ral hundred acres of corn, which was completely destroyed. He then 
advanced upon the adjoining villages, which he found deserted and 
burned as the first had been. Having destroyed all the corn which he 
found, the army commenced its retreat from the Indian country, sup- 
posing the enemy sufficiently intimidated. 

After marching about ten miles on the homeward route, General 
Harmar received information which induced him to suppose that 

:ody of Indians had returned and taken possession of the village 
which he had just left. He detached, therefore, eighty regular troops, 
under the orders of Major Wyllys, and nearly the whole of his mili- 
tia, under Colonel Hardin, with orders to return to the village and 
destroy such of the enemy as presented themselves. The detachment 
accordingly counter-marched and proceeded, with all possible dispatch, 
to the appointed spot, fearful only that the enemy might hear of their 
movement and escape before they could come up. The militia, in loose 
order, took the advance ; the regulars, moving in a hollow square, 
brought up the rear. Upon the plain in front of the town, a number 
of Indians were seen, between whom and the militia a sharp action 
commenced. After a few rounds, with considerable effect upon both 
sides, the savages fled in disorder, and were eagerly and impetuously 
pursued by the militia, .who, in the ardor of the chase, were drawn into 
the woods to a considerable distance from the regulars. 

Suddenly, from the opposite quarter, several hundred Indians appeared, 
rushing with loud yells upon the unsupported regulars. Major Wyllys, 
who was a brave and experienced officer, formed his men in a square, 
and endeavored to gain a more favorable spot of ground, but was pre- 
vented by the desperate impetuosity with which the enemy assailed him. 
Unchecked by the murderous fire which was poured upon them from 
the different sides of the square, they rushed in masses up to the points 
of the bayonets, hurled their tomahawks with fatal accuracy, and put- 
ting aside the bayonets with their hands, or clogging them with their 
bodies, they were quickly mingled with the troops, and handled their 
long knives with destructive effect. In two minutes the bloody strug- 
gle was over. Major Wyllys fell, together with seventy-three privates 
and one Lieutenant. One Captain, one Ensign, and seven privates — 
three of whom were wounded — were the sole survivors of this short 
but desperate encounter. 

The Indian loss was nearly equal, as they sustained several heavy fires 

ich the closeness of their masses rendered very destructive, and as 
they rushed upon the bayonets of the troops with the most astonishing 
disregard to their own safety. Their object was to overwhelm the regu- 



532 Our Western Border. 

lars before the militia could' return to their support, and it was as boldly- 
executed as it had been finely conceived. In a short time the militia 
returned from the pursuit of the flying party, which had decoyed them 
to a distance; but it was now too late to retrieve the fortune of the day. 
After some sharp skirmishing, they effected their retreat to the main 
body, with the loss of one hundred and eight killed and twenty-eight 
wounded. This dreadful slaughter so reduced the strength and spirits 
of Harmar's army that he was happy in being permitted to retreat unmo- 
lested, having totally failed in accomplishing the objects of the expedi- 
tion, and, by obstinately persevering in the ruinous plan of acting in 
detachments, having thrown away the lives of more than half of his 
regular force. This abortive expedition served only to encourage the 
enemy and to give additional rancor to their incursions. 

The Singular Adventure of Jackson Johonnet. 

Among Harmar's soldiers was a gay young fellow from Connecticut, 
Jackson Johonnet by name, who, being entrapped by a Boston recruit- 
ing officer, enlisted in a company for the West, and soon found himself 
descending the Ohio from Pittsburgh in a flatboat. On the tenth day 
of the march, Johonnet, who had conceived the idea that war was but 
a succession of battles and triumphs, accompanied by gay music, splen- 
did uniforms and showy parades, awoke from his dream. Hard march- 
ing, terrible work, gnawing hunger and constant exposure were his daily 
portion, but still he conducted himself so well that, having been pro- 
moted to the rank of sergeant, he was sent out on an exploring expedi- 
tion at the head of ten men. Being all about as accomplished as him- 
self in Indian warfare, they were quickly decoyed into an ambush, 
made prisoners, bound and secured, and driven before their captors like 
a herd of bullocks, in long marches, without a morsel of food. 

On the second day George Aikens, an Irishman, was unable to en- 
dure his sufferings any longer, and sunk under his pack in the middle 
of the path. They instantly scalped him as he lay, and, stripping him 
naked, pricked him with their knives in the most sensitive parts of the 
body until they had aroused him to a consciousness of his situation, 
when they tortured him to death in the usual manner. 

The march then recommenced, and the wretched prisoners, faint and 
famished as they were, were so shocked at the fate of their companion, 
that they bore up for eight days under all their sufferings. On the 
ninth, however, they reached a small village, where crowds of both 
sexes came out to meet them, with shrieks and yells which filled them 
with terror. Here they were compelled, as usual, to run the gauntlet, 



Singular Adventure of Jackson Johonnet. 533 

and as they were much worn down by hunger and fatigue, four of the 
party, viz : Durgee, Forsythe, Deloy, and Benton, all of New England, 
were unable to reach the council house, but fainted in the midst of the 
course. The boys and squaws instantly fell upon them, and put them 
to death by torture. 

Here they remained in close confinement and upon very scanty diet 
for several days, in the course of which the news of Harmar's defeat 
arrived. Piles of scalps, together with canteens, sashes, military hats, 
etc.. were brought into the village, and several white women and chil- 
dren were taken through the town on their way to the villages farther 
west. At the same time, four more of his companions were led off to 
the western villages, and never heard of afterwards. Himself and a 
corporal, named Sackville, were now the only survivors. They remained 
in close confinement two weeks longer. Their rations were barely suf- 
ficient to sustain life, and upon the receipt of any unpleasant intelli- 
gence, they were taken out, whipped severely, and compelled to run 
the gauntlet. 

At length, on the fourteenth night of their confinement, the}" deter- 
mined to make an effort to escape. Sackville had concealed a sharp 
penknife in a secret pocket, which the Indians had been unable to dis- 
cover. They were guarded by four warriors and one old hag of seventy, 
whose temper was as crooked as her person. The prisoners having been 
securely bound, the warriors lay down about midnight to sleep, order- 
ing the old squaw to sit up during the rest of the night. Their guns 
stood in the corner of the hut, and their tomahawks, as usual, were 
attached to their sides. Their hopes of escape were founded upon the 
probability of eluding the vigilance of the hag, cutting their cords, and 
either avoiding or destroying their guard. The snoring of the war- 
riors quickly announced them asleep, and the old squaw hung in a 
drowsy attitude over the fire. Sackville cautiously cut his own cords, 
and, after a few minutes' delay, succeeded in performing the same office 
for Jackson. 

But their work was scarcely begun yet. It was absolutely necessary 
that the old squaw should fall asleep, or be silenced in some other way, 
before they could either leave the hut or attack the sleeping warriors. 
They waited impatiently for half an hour, but perceiving that, although 
occasionally dozing, she would rouse herself at short intervals and 
regard them suspiciously, they exchanged looks of intelligence (being 
afraid even to whisper) and prepared for the decisive effort. Jackson 
suddenly sprang up as silently as possible, and grasping the old woman 
by the throat, drew her head back with violence, when Sackville, who 
had watched his movements attentively, instantly cut her throat from 



534 Our Western Border. 

ear to ear. A short, gurgling moan was the only sound which escaped 
her, as the violence with which Jackson grasped her throat effectually- 
prevented her speaking. 

The sleepers were not awakened, although they appeared somewhat 
disturbed at the noise ; and the two adventurers, seizing each a rifle, 
struck at the same moment with such fury as to disable two of their 
enemies. The other two instantly sprang to their feet, but before they 
could draw their tomahawks, or give the alarm, they were prostrated by 
the blows of the white men, who attacked them at the moment that 
they had gained their feet. Their enemies, although stunned, were not 
yet dead. They drew their tomahawks from their sides, therefore, and 
striking each Indian repeatedly upon the head, completed the work by 
piercing the heart of each with his own scalping knife. Selecting two 
rifles from the corner, together with their usual appendages, and taking 
such provisions as the hut afforded, they left the village as rapidly as 
possible, and, fervently invoking the protection of heaven, committed 
themselves to the wilderness. 

Neither of them were good woodsmen, nor were either of them ex- 
pert hunters. They attempted a southeastern course, however, as 
nearly as they could ascertain it, but were much embarrassed by the 
frequent recurrence of impassable bogs, which compelled them to 
change their course, and greatly retarded their progress. Knowing 
that the pursuit would be keen and persevering, they resorted to every 
method of baffling their enemies. They waded down many streams, 
and occasionally surmounted rocky precipices, which, under other cir- 
cumstances, nothing could have induced them to attempt. Their suf- 
ferings from hunger were excessive, as they were so indifferently skilled 
in hunting as to be unable to kill a sufficient quantity of game, although 
the woods abounded with deer, beaver and buffalo. 

An Assault; Upon a Quartette of Savages — Desperate Combat. 

On the fourth day, about ten o'clock, they came to a fine spring, 
where they halted and determined to prepare their breakfast. Before 
kindling a fire, however, Sackville, either upon some vague suspicion of 
the proximity of an enemy, or from some other cause, thought proper 
to ascend an adjoining hillock and reconnoitre the ground around the 
spring. No measure was ever more providential. Jackson presently 
beheld him returning cautiously and silently to the spring, and being 
satisfied from his manner that danger was at hand, he held his rifle in 
readiness for action at a moment's warning. Sackville presently re- 
joined him with a countenance in which anxiety and resolution were 



An Assault Upon a Quartette of Savages. 535 

strikingly blended. Jackson eagerly inquired the cause of his alarm. 
His companion, in a low voice, replied that they were within one 
hundred yards of four Indian warriors, who were reposing upon the 
bank of the little rivulet on the other side of the hillock ; that they 
were about kindling a fire in order to prepare their breakfast, and that 
two white men lay bound hand and foot within twenty feet of them. 

He added that the whites were evidently prisoners, exposed to the 
same dreadful fate which they had just escaped ; and concluded by de- 
claring that, if Jackson would stand by him faithfully, he was de- 
termined to rescue them or perish in the attempt. Jackson gave him 
his hand and expressed his readiness to accompany him. Sackville 
then looked carefully to the priming of his gun, loosened his knife in the 
sheath, and desired Tackson to follow him, without making the slightest 
noise. 

They, accordingly, moved in a stooping posture up a small and 
bushy ravine, which conducted them to the top of the gentle hill. 
When near the summit, they threw themselves flat upon the ground, 
and crawled into a thick cluster of whortleberry bushes, from which 
they had a fair view of the enemy. The Indians had not changed their 
position, iTut one of the white men was sitting up, and displayed the 
countenance of a young man, apparently about twenty-five, pale, hag- 
gard and exhausted. Two Indians, with uplifted tomahawks, sat within 
three feet of him. One lay at full length upon the ground, while the 
remaining one was in the act of lighting a fire. 

Sackville cocked his gun, and in a low voice directed Jackson to fire 
at one of the guards, who, from the quantity of beads and silver about 
his head, appeared to be a chief, while he selected the other guard for 
a mark. Each presented at the same moment, took a steady aim, and 
fired. Both Indians fell — x the chief shot dead, the other mortally 
wounded. The other two Indians squatted in the grass like terrified 
partndges when the hawk hovers over them, and lay still and motion- 
less. Sackville and Jackson reloaded their guns as rapidly as possible, 
and shifted their position a few paces in order to obtain a better view of 
the enemy. In the meantime, the two Indians cautiously elevated their 
heads above the grass, and glanced rapidly around in order to observe 
from what quarter the fatal shots were discharged. The thin wreaths 
of smoke which curled above the bushes where our adventurers lay, be- 
trayed their hiding place to the enemy. Before they could take ad- 
vantage of it, however, they were ready to fire again, and this second 
volley proved fatal to one of their enemies, who lay without motion, 
but the other was only slightly wounded, and endeavored to reach the 
bushes upon the opposite site of the brook. 



636 Our Western Border. 

Sackville and Jackson now sprang to their feet and rushed upon him, 
but the desperate savage shot Sackville through the heart, as he advanced, 
and flourished his tomahawk so menacingly at Jackson, that he was 
compelled to pause and reload his gun. The savage seized this oppor- 
tunity to grasp the two rifles belonging to the Indians who had been 
first killed, and Jackson, in consequence, was compelled to retreat to 
the friendly shelter of the bushes, which he had too hastily abandoned. 
At this instant the two prisoners, having burst the cords which confined 
them, sprang to their feet and ran towards the bushes for protection. 
Before they could reach them, however, the Indian shot one dead, and 
fired his last gun at the other, but without effect. Jackson having 
loaded again, fired upon their desperate enemy and wounded him in 
the neck, from which he could see the blood spouting in a stream. 
Nothing daunted, the Indian rapidly reloaded his gun and again fired 
without effect. 

The prisoner who had escaped now seized Sackville's gun, and he and 
Johonnet, having reloaded, once more left the bushes and advanced 
upon their wounded enemy. The savage, although much exhausted 
from loss of blood, sat up at their approach, and, flourishing a toma- 
hawk in each hand, seemed at least determined to die game. "Johonnet 
was anxious to take him alive, but was prevented by his companion, 
who, leveling his gun as he advanced, shot his adversary through the 
head, and thus put an end to the conflict. It was a melancholy victory 
to the survivors. Johonnet had lost his gallant comrade, and the res- 
cued white man had to lament the death of his fellow captive. The 
last Indian had certainly inflicted a heavy penalty upon his enemies, 
and died amply revenged. The rescued prisoner proved to be George 
Sexton, of Newport, Rhode Island, a private in Harmar's army. 

Fortunately for Johonnet, his new comrade was an excellent woods- 
man, and very readily informed his deliverer of their present situation, 
and of the proper course to steer. He said, that in company with 
three others, he had been taken by a party of Wabash Indians, in the 
neighborhood of Fort Jefferson ; that two of his comrades having sunk 
under their sufferings, had been tomahawked and scalped upon the spot ; 
that himself and his dead companion had been in hourly expectation of 
a similar fate, and concluded with the warmest expressions of grati- 
tude for the gallantry with which he had been rescued. So lively, in- 
deed, was his sense of obligation, that he would not permit Jackson to 
carry his own baggage, nor would he suffer him to watch more than 
three hours in the twenty-four. On the following day they fortunately 
fell in with a small detachment from Fort Jefferson, by which they were 
safely conducted to the fort. 



The Disastrous Defeat of General St. Clair. 537 



THE DISASTROUS DEFEAT OF GENERAL ST. CLAIR. 

Fought eye to eye and hand to hand, 

Alas ! t'was but to die ! 
In vain the rifle's deadly flash 
Scorch'd eagle plume and wampum sash, 

Thehatchet hissed on high ; 
And down they fell in crimson heaps, 
Like the ripe corn the sickle reaps. 

The ignominious failure of Harmar's expedition made a deep and 
very unpleasant impression upon the whole country. The depredations 
of the Indians, by consequence, became more flagrant and intolerable 
than ever. The delegates from Western Virginia memorialized the State 
for some protection to their exposed line of frontier nearly four hun- 
dred miles long. A demand for a new and larger expedition grew so 
strong and general, that in March, '91, Congress passed an Act for 
another regiment and for further protection of the frontiers, and Presi- 
dent Washington appointed General St. Clair Commander-in-Chief, and 
authorized a new expedition of no less than three thousand men. In 
the meantime, two smaller and preliminary expeditions were dis- 
patched immediately, one of eight hundred Kentuckians, under General 
Charles Scott, against the Wea towns on the Wabash and another of 
about six hundred, under Colonel Wilkinson, to destroy the towns on 
the Eel river; both were destructive and exasperating, but accom- 
plished nothing definite. The burning of towns, crops and the captiv- 
ity of their women and children only made the savages more desperate, 
and the chiefs, Little Turtle, Miami ; Blue Jacket, Shawnee, and Buck- 
ongahelas, Delaware, were busy forming a new and strong Indian Con- 
federacy. 

General Arthur St. Clair was, as stated, Governor of the Northwestern 
Territory, and had generally ranked high as an officer of courage and 
patriotism, but had been more uniformly unfortunate than any other of- 
ficer in the American service. He had commanded at Ticonderoga, in 
the Spring of 1777, and had conducted one of the most disastrous re- 
treats which occurred during the Revolutionary war. Notwithstanding 
his repeated misfortunes, he still commanded the respect of his brother 
officers, and the undiminished confidence of Washington. He w^s now 
selected as the person most capable of restoring the American affairs in 
the Northwest, and was placed at the head of a regular force, amount- 
ing to near fifteen hundred men, well furnished with artillery, and was 
empowered to call out such reinforcements of militia as might be neces- 
sary. Cincinnati, as usual, was the place of rendezvous. 



538 Our Western Border. 

In October, 1791, an army was assembled at that place, greatly su- 
perior, in numbers, officers and equipments, to any which had yet ap- 
peared in the West. The regular force was composed of three com- 
plete regiments of infantry, two companies of artillery and one of cav- 
alry. The militia, who joined him at Fort Washington, amounted to 
upwards of six hundred men, most of whom had long been accustomed 
to Indian warfare. The General commenced his march from Cincin- 
nati, and on the 12th of October arrived at Fort Jefferson without ma- 
terial loss, although not without having sustained much inconvenience 
from scarcity of provisions. The Kentucky Rangers, amounting to up- 
wards of two hundred men, had encountered several small parties of 
Indians, but no serious affair had as yet taken place. Shortly after leav- 
ing Fort Jefferson one of the militia regiments, with their usual disre- 
gard to discipline, determined that it was inexpedient to proceed farther, 
and, detaching themselves from the main body, returned rapidly to the 
fort, on their way home. This ill-timed mutiny not only discouraged 
the remainder, but compelled the General to detach the first regiment 
in pursuit of them ; if not to bring them back, at least to prevent them 
from injuring the stores collected at the fort for the use of the army. 
With the remainder of the troops, amounting in all to about twelve hun- 
dred men, he, sick and suffering, continued his march to the great 
Miami villages, toiling along at the slow rate of about seven miles a day 
and the troops deserting by fifties. 

On the evening of the 3d of November he encamped, now only about 
fourteen hundred strong, upon a very commanding piece of ground on 
the bank of a tributary of the Wabash, where he determined to 
throw up some slight works, for the purpose of protecting their knap- 
sacks and baggage, having to move upon the Miami villages, supposed 
to be within twelve miles, as soon as the first regiment should join them. 
The remainder of the evening was employed in concerting the plan of 
the proposed works with Major Ferguson of the engineers ; and when the 
sentries were posted at night, everything was as quiet as could have 
been desired. The troops were encamped in two lines, with an interval 
of seventy yards between them, which was all that the nature of the 
ground would permit. The battalions of Majors Butler, Clark and Pat- 
terson composed the front line, the whole under the orders of Major 
General Richard Butler, an officer of great bravery and merited reputa- 
tion. The front of the line was covered by a creek, its right flank by 
the river and its left by a strong corps of infantry. The second line 
was composed of the battalions ot Majors Gaither and Bedinger, and 
the second regiment under the command of Lieutenant Colonel Darke. 
This line, like the other, was secured upon one flank by the river and 



Major General Butler Killed. 539 

upon the other by the cavalry and pickets. The night passed away 
without serious alarm. The sentinels were vigilant and the officers 
upon the alert. 

Butler Killed — Waterloo Defeat and Disastrous Retreat. 

A few hours before day St. Clair caused the reveille to be beaten, 
and the troops to be paraded under arms, as was the custom each day. 
In this situation they continued until daylight, when they were dismissed 
to their tents. Some were endeavoring to snatch a few minutes' sleep, 
others were preparing for the expected march, when suddenly the report 
of a rifle was heard from the militia, a few hundred yards in front, 
which was quickly followed by a sharp, irregular volley in the same 
direction. The drums instantly beat to arms, the officers flew in every 
direction, ind in two minutes the troops were formed in order of battle. 
Presently the militia rushed into camp in the utmost disorder, closely 
pursued by swarms of Indians, who, in many places, were mingled with 
them and were cutting them down with their tomahawks. 

Major Butler's battalion received the first shock, and was thrown into 
disorder by the tumultuous flight of the militia, who, in their eagerness 
to escape, bore down everything before them. Here Major General 
Butler had stationed himself, and here St. Clair directed his attention, in 
order to remedy the confusion which began to spread rapidly through 
the whole line. The Indians pressed forward with great audacity, and 
many of them were mingled with the troops before their progress could 
be checked. Major General Butler was wounded at the first fire, and 
before his wound could be dressed, an Indian, who had penetrated the 
ranks of the regiment, ran up to the spot where he lay and tomahawked 
him before his attendants could interpose. The desperate savage was 
instantly killed. By great exertions, Butler's battalion was restored to 
order, and the heavy and sustained fire of the first line compelled the 
enemy to pause and shelter themselves. 

This interval, however, endured but for a moment. An invisible but 
tremendous fire quickly opened upon the whole front of the encamp- 
ment, which rapidly extended to the rear, and encompassed the troops 
on both sides. St. Clair, who at that time was worn down by a fever 
and unable to mount his horse, nevertheless, as is universally admitted, 
exerted himself with a courage and presence of mind worthy of a bet- 
ter fate. He instantly directed his litter to the right of the rear line, 
where the great weight of fire fell, and where the slaughter, particularly 
of the officers, was terrible. Here Darke commanded, an officer who 
had been trained to hard service during the Revolutionary war, and 



540 Our Western Border. 

who was now gallantly exerting himself to check the consternation 
which was evidently beginning to prevail. St. Clair ordered him to 
make a rapid charge with the bayonet, and rouse the enemy from their 
covert. 

The order was instantly obeyed, and, at first, apparently with great 
effect. Swarms of dusky bodies arose from the high grass and fled be- 
fore the regiment, with every mark of consternation; but as the troops 
were unable to overtake them, they quickly recovered their courage, 
and kept up so fatal a retreating fire that the exhausted regulars were 
compelled in their turn to give way. This charge, however, relieved 
that particular point for some time ; but the weight of the fire was 
transferred to the centre of the first line, where it threatened to anni- 
hilate everything within its range. There, in turn, the unfortunate 
General was borne by his attendants, and ordered a second appeal to 
the bayonet. This second charge was made with the same impetuosity 
as at first, and with the same momentary success. But the attack was 
instantly shifted to another point, where the same charge was made and 
the same result followed. The Indians would retire before them, still 
keeping up a most fatal fire, and the Continentals were uniformly com- 
pelled to retire in turn. St. Clair brought up the artillery, in order .to 
sweep the bushes with grape; but the horses and artillerymen were 
destroyed by the terrible fire of the enemy before any effect could be 
produced. They were instantly manned afresh from the infantry and 
again swept of defenders. 

A Prodigious Slaughter and a Disgraceful Rout. 

The slaughter had now become prodigious. Four-fifths of the officers 
and one-half of the men were either killed or wounded. The ground 
was covered with bodies, and the little ravine which led to the river was 
running with blood. The fire of the enemy had not in the least slack- 
ened, and the troops were falling in heaps before it in every part of the 
camp. To have attempted to have maintained his position longer could 
only have led to the total destruction of his force, without the possi-* 
bility of annoying the enemy, who never showed themselves unless 
when charged, and whose numbers (to judge from the weight and ex- 
tent of the fire) must have greatly exceeded his own. 

The men were evidently much disheartened; but the officers, who 
were chiefly veterans of the Revolution, still maintained a firm coun- 
tenance, and exerted themselves with unavailing heroism to the last. 
Under these circumstances, St. Clair determined to save the lives of the 
survivors, if possible, and for that purpose collected the remnants of 



A Prodigious Slaughter and a Disgraceful Rout. 541 

several battalions into one corps, at the head of which he ordered 
Lieutenant Colonel Darke to make an impetuous charge upon the ene- 
my, in order to open a passage for the remainder of the army. Darke 
executed his orders with great spirit, and drove the Indians before him 
to the distance of a quarter of a mile. The remainder of the army in- 
stantly rushed through the opening in order to gain the road, Major 
Clark, with the remnant of his battalion, bringing up the rear and en- 
deavoring to keep the Indians in check. 

The retreat soon degenerated into a total rout, the greater part of 
the men throwing away their arms and accoutrements even long after 
the pursuit had terminated. Officers who strove to arrest the panic 
only sacrificed themselves. Clark, the leader of the rear guard, soon 
fell in this dangerous service, and his corps was totally disorganized. 
Officers and soldiers were now mingled without the slightest regard to 
discipline, and "devil take the hindmost" was the order of the day. 
The pursuit at first was keen ; but, as at Braddock's defeat, the tempta- 
tion afforded by the plunder of the camp, soon brought them back, 
and the wearied, wounded and disheartened fugitives were permitted to 
retire from the field unmolested. The rout continued as far as Fort 
Jefferson, twenty-nine miles from the scene of battle. The action 
lasted more than three hours, during the whole of which time the fire 
was heavy and incessant. 

The loss, in proportion to the number engaged, was enormous, and 
unparalleled, except in the affair of Braddock. Sixty-eight officers 
were killed upon the spot and twenty-eight wounded. Out of nine 
hundred privates who went into the action, five hundred and fifty were 
left dead upon the field, and many of the survivors were wounded. 
General St. Clair was untouched, although eight balls passed through 
his hat and clothes, and several horses were killed under him. He was 
placed by a few friends upon an exhausted pack-horse that could not be 
pricked out of a walk, and in this condition followed in the rear of the 
troops. 

The Indian loss was reported by themselves at fifty-eight killed and 
wounded, which was probably not underrated, as they were never 
visible after the first attack until charged with the bayonet. At Fort 
Jefferson the fugitives were joined by the first regiment, who, as noticed 
above, had been detached in pursuit of the deserters. Here a council 
of war was called, which terminated in the unanimous opinion that the 
junction with the first regiment did not justify an attempt upon the 
enemy in the present condition of affairs, and that the army should re- 
turn to Fort Washington without delay. This was accordingly done ; 
and thus closed the second campaign against the Indians. 



542 Our Western Border. 

The unfortunate General was, as usual, assailed from all points of the 
country. He was called a coward, a traitor and an imbecile. All the 
misfortunes of his life, and they were many and bitter, were paraded in 
dread array against him. His plan of battle was torn to pieces by 
newspaper critics and carpet knights who " had never set a squadron in 
the field," and all the bitter ingredients which go to nil the cup of the 
unsuccessful General was drained to the very dregs. "Nothing is so 
successful as success." Aware of the public odium, St. Clair demanded 
a court, but it was denied. He offered to resign, but was not allowed. 
It seems as if Washington alone stood by him. 

It is now deemed that St. Clair was no coward; that his position was 
well chosen; that he conducted the battle after the surprise, not only 
with courage but with ability, and that he made repeated and desperate 
charges which failed because he was outnumbered, and because his foes 
were brave, impetuous and admirably led. But misfortune had marked 
St. Clair for its own. He never recovered from this disastrous blow. 
His whole subsequent life was but a long struggle with poverty and 
wretchedness, and when, in his penury and old age, he appealed to Con- 
gress for a pension, he was stigmatized as a "pauper," and his claim was 
almost indignantly scouted and rejected. 

Benjamin Van Cleve, who fought as a volunteer in this terrible en- 
gagement, says that the enemy's fire was tremendous ; that he saw one 
savage running off with a whole keg of powder, and that thirty officers 
and soldiers were lying scalped about the artillery. The ground was 
literally covered with dead and dying men. He saw a Lt. Morgan, an 
aide to General Butler, start on a run with six or eight men. and he 
started to run with them, but suddenly they broke right in among the 
savages, who were so taken back, thinking it was an attack, that they 
opened to right and left, and two hundred thus got through them and no 
shot fired. 



William Kennan, the Ranger, and His Race for Life. 

William Kennan, of Fleming county,, at that time a young man of 
eighteen, was attached to the corps of rangers who accompanied the 
regular force. He had long been remarkable for strength and activity. 
In the course of the march from Fort Washington, he had repeated op- 
portunities of testing his astonishing powers in that respect, and was 
universally admitted to be the swiftest runner of the light corps. On 
the evening preceding the action his corps had been advanced, as al- 
ready observed, a few hundred yards in front of the first line of in- 
fantry, in order to give seasonable notice of the enemy's approach. 



William Kennan, the Ranger, and His Race for Life. 543 

Just as day was dawning he observed about thirty Indians within one 
hundred yards of the guard fire, advancing cautiously towards the spot 
where he stood, together with about twenty rangers, the rest being con- 
siderably in the rear. 

Supposing it to be a mere scouting party, as usual, and not superior 
in number to the rangers, he sprang forward a few paces in order to 
shelter himself in a spot of peculiarly rank grass, and firing with a quick 
aim upon the foremost Indian, he instantly fell flat upon his face, and 
proceeded with all possible rapidity to reload his gun, not doubting for 
a moment but that the rangers would maintain their position and sup- 
port him. The Indians, however, rushed forward in such overwhelm- 
ing masses, that the rangers were compelled to fly with precipitation, 
leaving young Kennan in total ignorance of his danger. Fortunately, 
the Captain of his company had observed him when he threw himselt 
in the grass, and suddenly shouted aloud, " Run> Kennan ! or you are 
a dead man!" He instantly sprang to his feet, and beheld Indians 
within ten feet of him, while his company was already more than one 
hundred yards in front. 

Not a moment was to be lost. He 'darted off with every muscle 
strained to its utmost, and was pursued by a dozen of the enemy with 
loud yells. He at first pressed straight forward to the usual fording 
place in the creek which ran between the rangers and the main army, 
but several Indians, who had passed him before he arose from the grass, 
threw themselves in the way, and completely cut him off from the rest. 
By the most powerful exertions he had thrown the whole body of pur- 
suers behind him, with the exception of one young chief (probably Mes- 
shawa) who displayed a swiftness and perseverance equal to his own. 
In the circuit which Kennan was obliged to take, the race continued for 
more than four hundred yards. The distance between them was about 
eighteen feet, which Kennan could not increase nor his adversary dimin- 
ish. Each, for the time, put his whole soul in the race. 

Kennan, as far as he was able, kept his eye upon the motions of his 
pursuer, lest he should throw the tomahawk, which he held aloft in a 
menacing attitude, and at length, finding that no other Indian was im- 
mediately at hand, he determined to try the mettle of his pursuer in a 
different manner, and felt for his tomahawk in order to turn at bay. It 
had escaped from its sheath, however, while he lay in the grass, and his 
hair had almost lifted the cap from his head when he saw himself totally 
disarmed. As he had slackened his pace for a moment, the Indian was 
almost within reach of him when he recommenced the race, but the idea 
of being without arms lent wings to his flight, and for the first time he 
saw himself gaining ground. He had watched the motions of his pur- 



544 Our Western Border. 

suer too closely, however, to pay proper attention to the nature of the 
ground before him, and he suddenly found himself in front of a large 
tree which had been blown down, and upon which brush and other im- 
pediments lay to the height of eight or nine feet. 

The Indian (who, heretofore, had not uttered the slightest sound) 
now gave a short, quick yell, as if secure qf his victim. Kennan had 
not a moment to deliberate. He must clear the impediment at a leap 
or perish. Putting his whole soul into the effort, he bounded into the 
air with a power which astonished himself, and clearing limbs, brush 
and everything else, alighted in perfect safety upon the other side. A 
loud yell of astonishment burst from the band of pursuers, not one of 
whom had the hardihood to attempt the same feat. Kennan, as maybe 
readily imagined, had no leisure to enjoy his triumph, but dashing into 
the bed of the creek (upon the edge of which his feat had been per- 
formed) where the high banks would shield him from the fire of the 
enemy, he ran up the stream until a convenient place offered for cross- 
ing, and rejoined the rangers in the rear of the encampment, panting 
from the' fatigue of exertions which have seldom been surpassed. No 
breathing time was allowed Him, however. The attack instantly com- 
menced, and, as we have already observed, was maintained for three 
hours with unabated fury. 

When the retreat commenced Kennan was attached to Major Clark's 
battalion, and had the dangerous service of protecting the rear. This 
corps quickly lost its commander, and was completely disorganized. 
Kennan was among the hindmost when the flight commenced, but ex- 
erting those same powers which had saved him in the morning, he 
quickly gained the front, passing several horsemen in the flight. Here 
he beheld a private of his own company, an intimate acquaintance, 
lying upon the ground, with his thigh broken, and in tones of the most 
piercing distress, imploring each horseman who hurried by to take him 
up behind him. As soon as he beheld Kennan coming up on foot, he 
stretched out his arms, and called upon him to save him. Notwith- 
standing the imminent peril of the moment, his friend could not reject 
so passionate an appeal, but seizing him in his arms, he placed him upon 
his back, and ran in that manner for several hundred yards. Horse- 
man after horseman passed them, all of whom refused to relieve him of 
his burden. 

At length the enemy was gaining upon him so fast that Kennan saw 
their death certain, unless he relinquished his burden. He, accordingly, 
told his friend that he had used every possible exertion to save his life, 
but in vain \ that he must relax his hold around his neck, or they would 
both perish. The unhappy wretch, heedless of every remonstrance, still 



Kennan Saves Madison. 545 

clung convulsively to his back, and impeded his exertions until the fore- 
most of the enemy (armed with tomahawks alone) were within twenty- 
yards of them. Kennan then drew his knife from its sheath and cut the 
fingers of his companion, thus compelling him to relinquish his hold. 
The unhappy man rolled upon the ground in utter helplessness, and 
Kennan beheld him tomahawked before he had gone thirty yards. 
Relieved from his burden he darted forward with an activity which once 
more brought him to the van. Here, again, he was compelled to neglect 
his own safety in order to attend to that of others. 

Kennan Saves Madison — Lieutenant Colonel Darke's Escape. 

Governor Madison, of Kentucky, who afterwards commanded the 
corps which defended themselves so honorably at Raisin, a man who 
united the most amiable temper to the most unconquerable courage, was 
at that time a subaltern in St. Clair's army, and being a man of infirm 
constitution was totally exhausted by the exertions of the morning, and 
was now sitting down calmly upon a log, awaiting the approach of his 
enemies. Kennan hastily accosted him, and inquired the cause of his 
delay. Madison, pointing to a wound which had bled profusely, replied 
that he was unable to walk further, and had no horse. Kennan instant- 
ly ran back to *a spot where he had seen an exhausted horse grazing, 
caught him without difficulty, and, having assisted Madison to mount, 
walked by his side until they were out of danger. Fortunately, the 
pursuit soon ceased, as the plunder of the camp presented irresistible 
attractions to the enemy. The friendship thus formed between these- 
two young men, endured without interruption through life. Mr. Ken- 
nan never entirely recovered from the immense exertions which he was 
compelled to make during this unfortunate ^expedition. He settled in 
Fleming county, and continued for many years a leading member of 
the Baptist Church. He died in 1827. 

A party of Chickasaws were on their march to join St. Clair, but did 
not arrive in time to share in the action. One warrior of that nation 
alone was present, and displayed the most admirable address and activ- 
He positively refused to stand in the ranks with the soldiers, 
declaring that the ' ' Shawnees would shoot him down like a wild 
pigeon." but took refuge behind a log a few yards in front of Butler's 
battalion, and discharged his rifle eleven times at the enemy with un- 
erring accuracy. He could not be persuaded, however, to forego the 
pleasure of scalping each Indian as he fell, and 111 performing this 
agreeable office, he at length was shot down by the enemy, and scalped 
in turn. 
35 



546 Our Western Border. 

The leader of the Indian army in this bloody engagement was a chief 
of the Missassago tribe, known by the name of the "Little Turtle." 
Notwithstanding his name, he was at least six feet high, strong, muscu- 
lar, and remarkably dignified in his appearance. He was forty years 
of age, had seen much service, and had accompanied Burgoyne in his 
disastrous invasion. His aspect was harsh, sour and forbidding, and 
his person, during the action, was arrayed in the very extremity of In- 
dian foppery, having at least twenty dollars' worth of silver depending 
from his nose and ears. The plan of attack was conceived by him 
alone, in opposition to the opinion of almost every other chief. Not- 
withstanding his ability, however, he was said to have been unpopular 
among the Indians, probably in consequence of those very abilities. 

Many veteran officers of inferior rank, who had served with distinc- 
tion throughout the Revolutionary war, were destined to perish in this 
unhappy action. Among them was the gallant and unrewarded Cap- 
tain Kirkwood, of the old Delaware line, so often and so honorably 
mentioned in Lee's Memoirs. The State of Delaware having had but 
one regiment on Continental establishment, and that regiment having 
been reduced to a company at Camden, it was impossible for Kirkwood 
to be promoted without a violation of the ordinary rules by which com- 
missions were regulated. He, accordingly, had the mortification of be- 
holding junior officers daily mounting above him in the scale of rank, 
while he himself, however meritorious, was compelled to remain in his 
present condition, on account of the small force which his native State 
could bring into the field. 

• Notwithstanding this constant source of mortification, he fought with 
distinguished gallantry throughout the war, and was personally engaged 
in the battles of Camden, Guilford, Hobkirks, Ninety-six and Eutaw, 
the hottest and bloodiest which occurred during the Revolution. At 
the peace of 1783 he retired, with a broken fortune but a high repu- 
tation for courage, honor and probity, and upon the reappearance of 
war in the Northwest, he hastened once more to the scene of action, 
and submitted, without reluctance, to the command of officers who had 
been boys while he was fighting those severe battles in the South. He 
fell in a brave attempt to repel the enemy with the bayonet, and thus 
closed a career as honorable as it was unrewarded. 

Lieutenant Colonel Darke's escape was almost miraculous. Possessed 
of a tall, striking figure, in full uniform, and superbly mounted, he 
headed three desperate charges against the enemy, in each of which he 
was a conspicuous mark. His clothes were cut in many places, but he 
escaped with only a slight flesh wound. In the last charge, Ensign 
Wilson, a youth of seventeen, was shot through the heart, and fell a few 



Mad Anthony Wayne Tries It and Wins. 547 

paces in the rear of the regiment, which was then rather rapidly returning 
to its original position. An Indian, attracted by his rich uniform, 
sprang up from the grass and rushed forward to scalp him. Darke, 
who was at that time in the rear of his regiment, suddenly faced about, 
dashed at the Indian on horseback and cleft his skull with his broad- 
sword, drawing upon himself by the act a rapid discharge of more than 
a dozen rifles. He rejoined his regiment, however, in safety, being 
compelled to leave the body of young Wilson to the enem3 T . On the 
evening of the 8th of November the broken remains of the army ar- 
rived at Fort Washington, and were placed in Winter quarters. 



"MAD ANTHONY WAYNE" TRIES IT AND WINS. 

Two commanders had now been tested and failed. The whole coun- 
try, burning under the disgrace of Harmar's and St. Clair's defeats, 
clamored for a third expedition. But who should be the leader? This 
was the theme of general discussion. Many, who had made noble 
records during the Revolution, sought the position. Washington had 
been very severely censured for his appointment of an old, infirm, and, 
above all, an unlucky General like St. Clair, and it behooved him now 
to make a careful selection. 

The choice at last seemed to narrow down to General Wayne and 
General Henry Lee, the famous and intrepid partisan leader, whose 
brilliant dashes and daring achievements during the late war, were the 
themes of every tongue. Lee had many warm admirers, and it cannot 
be denied that he possessed peculiar qualifications for an enterprise of 
"such pith and moment." Washington also favored him, and it is 
asserted that nothing but the discontent which would be occasioned 
among old army Generals by the appointment of so young an officer, 
prevented his obtaining the coveted position. 

But, finally, "Mad Anthony Wayne," to whom this objection could 
not apply, and who was equally brave, dashing and successful, was 
chosen. His remarkable capture of Stony Point — which General Lee, 
of Virginia, although personally no friend to him, declared to be not 
only the most brilliant achievement of the Revolutionary war, but of 
any war — had rendered him very popular. He never enjoyed the repu- 
tation of being a very skillful planner or a prudent commander, but as 
a bold, prompt executive officer, with that kind of magnetic force about 



548 Our Western Border. 

him best calculated to win the confidence and maintain the spirit of his 
men, he was incomparable, and undoubtedly "a head and shoulders" 
above all others. He seemed to be of opinion that the whole art of 

war was embraced in his own favorite command : ' ' Charge the d d 

rascals with the bayonet." 

Nearly a year elapsed after St. Clair's defeat before Wayne's ap- 
pointment, and even a longer period was next spent in gathering to- 
gether and drilling a proper force. General Wayne determined to avoid 
the fault which had so much embarrassed his predecessors, and prepared 
his command with great care. He arrived at Pittsburgh early in June, 
1792, having been furnished with instructions from President Wash- 
ington, in which it was emphatically stated " that another defeat would 
be irredeemably ruinous to the reputation of the Government" 

The force was to consist of five thousand men, carefully chosen and 
thoroughly drilled, to be called " The Legion of the United States." 
With ardent zeal and unwearied patience, Wayne commenced to gather 
his command. The very name of Indian was now such a dread, that 
many of the troops were completely demoralized and deserted by the 
score. At length, however, energy and indomitable will prevailed; or- 
der and discipline were introduced ; the troops were daily drilled and 
manoeuvred ; bad or incapable material was weeded out ; firing at a 
mark was ordered as a daily practice, and rivalry and a spirit of emu- 
lation was fostered between different divisions, so that a military pride 
and confidence and a commendable esprit du corps was soon engen- 
dered. 

No branch of the service was overlooked. The scouts especially were 
selected with exceeding care from the bravest and most experienced 
hunters of the border. The artillery was in constant service. The dra- 
goons were taught to practice with, and to rely upon, the broadsword, 
and to make furious and impetuous charges as the best means of safety, 
as well as the most important aids to success. The men were taught to 
charge in open order, and each to rely on himself. To crown all, this 
legion, about December, '92, was taken to a beautiful plain overlook- 
ing the Ohio and about twenty miles below Pittsburgh — to this day 
called Legionville — and there a Winter camp was made, and in addi- 
tion to the daily drills and manoeuvres, movements en masse, skirmishes 
and sham battles were indulged in. 

All this care and wisdom had, of course, its natural effect, and when, 
upon the 13th of April, 1793, Wayne broke up his camp and embarked 
his legion for Cincinnati, he had an army fit to cope with any force the 
enemy dare bring in opposition. Reinforcements of regular troops 
were constantly arriving, and, in addition, mounted militia from Ken- 



The Battle of Fallen Timbers. 549 

tucky. It was so late in the season, however, before all the various 
forces could be collected, and all the necessary supplies procured, that 
he judged it prudent to defer any offensive movement until the Spring. 
During the Winter, Wayne remained at a fort which he had built upon 
a western fork of the Little Miami, and to which he had given the name 
of Greenville. By detachments from the regular troops he was enabled 
to sweep the country lying between him and the Miami villages, and 
having taken possession of the ground upon which St. Clair was defeated, 
he erected a small fort upon it, to which he gave the name of Recovery, 
His orders were positive to endeavor, if possible, to procure peace upon 
reasonable terms without resorting to force, and he accordingly opened 
several conferences with the hostile tribes during the Winter. 



"LEGION" READY— BATTLE OF "FALLEN TIMBERS." 

Many of their chiefs visited him in his camp, and examined his 
troops, artillery and equipments with great attention, and from time to 
time made ample professions of a disposition to bury the hatchet ; but 
nothing definite could be drawn from them. As the Spring approached, 
the visits of the Indians became more rare, and their professions of 
friendship waxed fainter. In February, they threw aside the mask at 
once, and made a bold effort to carry the distant outpost at Fort Re- 
covery by a conp-de-foi'ce. In this, however, they were frustrated by 
the vigilance and energy of the garrison ; and finding that Wayne was 
neither to be surprised nor deceived, they employed themselves in col- 
lecting their utmost strength, with a determination to abide the brunt of 
battle. 

In the Spring the General called upon the Governor of Kentucky for 
a detachment of mounted men, who repaired with great alacrity to his 
standard in two brigades, under Todd and Barbee, the whole com- 
manded by Major General Scott, amounting to more than fifteen hun- 
dred men accustomed to Indian warfare. The regular force, including 
cavalry and artillery, amounted to about two thousand, so that the Gen- 
eral found himself at the head of three thousand men, well provided 
with everything, in high spirits, and eager for battle. The Indian force 
did not exceed two thousand, and was known to have assembled in the 
neighborhood of the British fort at the rapids of the Miami. 

It was late in July before Wayne was ready to march from Greenville, 
and, from the nature of the country as well as the necessity of guard- 



650 Our Western Border. 

ing against surprise, his progress was slow but sure. On the 19th of 
August, when within a day's march of the enemy's position, he deter- 
mined to send a messenger, charged with the last offer of peace and 
friendship which he intended to make. For this dangerous and appa- 
rently useless office, he selected a private volunteer named Miller, who 
had formerly been taken by the Indians, and lived for many years upon 
the banks of the Miami. Miller, however, was reluctant to go, and said 
they would roast him alive. Wayne, however, answered that he would 
hold ten Indians as hostages for his safety, and if anything happened 
him would sacrifice the whole of them. With this assurance Miller 
went to the Indian camp. As soon as they beheld him approaching, 
they ran out to him with loud yells, brandishing their tomahawks, and 
crying out, in their own language, " Kill the runaway !" Miller, who 
well understood their language, instantly addressed them with great 
earnestness, and in a few words made known the cause of his visit, and 
the guarantee which Wayne held for his safe return. To the first part 
of the intelligence they listened with supreme contempt. A long con- 
ference ensued, in which many chiefs spoke, but nothing could be* 
determined upon. 

On the next day Miller was ordered to return to Wayne with some 
evasive message, intending to amuse him until they could devise some 
means of recovering their friends. He accordingly left them with 
great readiness, and was returning with all possible dispatch, when he 
met the General in full march upon the enemy, having become tired of 
waiting for the return of his messenger. 

The General received the report of Miller without delaying his march 
for a moment, which was continued in order of battle until he arrived 
within view of the enemy. The regular force formed the centre col- 
umn , one brigade of mounted volunteers moved upon the left under 
General Barbee, the other brought up the .rear under General Todd. 
The right flank was covered by the river, and Major Price, with a 
selected corps of mounted volunteers, was advanced about five miles in 
front, with orders to feel the enemy's position, and then fall back upon 
the main body. About noon the advanced corps received so heavy a 
fire from a concealed enemy, as to compel it to retire with precipita- 
tion. The heads of the columns quickly reached the hostile ground, 
and had a view of the enemy. The ground for miles was covered with 
a thick growth of timber, which rendered the operation of cavalry ex- 
tremely difficult. The Indians occupied a thick wood in front, where 
an immense number of trees had been blown down by a hurricane, the 
branches of which were interlocked in such a manner as greatly to im- 
pede the exertions of the regulars. 



Enemy Routed and Driven Under British Guns. 551 

The enemy were formed in three parallel lines, at right angles to the 
river, and displayed a front of more than two miles. Wayne rode for- 
ward to reconnoitre their positions, and perceiving, from the weight and 
extent of the fire, that they were in full force, he instantly made dis- 
positions for the attack. The whole of the mounted volunteers were 
ordered to make a circuit, for the purpose of turning the right flank of 
the Indians ; the cavalry were ordered to move up under cover of the 
river bank, and, if possible, turn their left ; while the regular infantry 
were formed in a thick wood in front of the " Fallen Timber," with 
orders, as soon as the signal was given, to rush forward at full speed, 
without firing a shot, arousing the enemy from their covert at the point 
of the bayonet, and then to deliver a close fire upon their backs, press- 
ing them so closely as not to permit them to reload their guns. All 
these orders were executed with precision. The mounted volunteers 
moved off rapidly to occupy the designated ground, while the first line 
of infantry was formed under the eye of the commander for the peril- 
ous charge in front. 

As soon as time had been given for the arrival of the several corps 
upon their respective points, the order was given to advance, and the 
infantry, rushing through a tremendous fire of rifles, and overleaping 
every impediment, hastened to close with their concealed enemy and 
maintain the struggle on equal terms. Although their loss in this des- 
perate charge was by no means inconsiderable, yet the effect was de- 
cisive. The enemy rose and fled before them more than two miles, with 
considerable loss, as, owing to the orders of Wayne, they were nearly 
as much exposed as the regulars. Such was the rapidity of the advance, 
and the precipitation of the retreat, that only a small part of the vol- 
unteers could get up in time to share in the action, although there can 
be no question that their presence and threatening movement con- 
tributed equally with the impetuous charge of the infantry to the success 
of the day. 

v 

The Enemy Routed and Driven Under British Guns. 

The broken remains of the Indian army were pursued under the guns 
of the British fort, and so keen was the ardor of Wayne's men, and so 
strong their resentment against the English, that .it was with the utmost 
difficulty they could be restrained from storming it upon the spot. 
As it was. many of the Kentucky troops advanced within gunshot, and 
insulted the garrison with a select volley of oaths and epithets, which 
must have given the British Commandant a high idea of backwoods 
gentility. He instantly wrote an indignant letter to General Wayne, 



552 Our Western Border. 

complaining of the outrage, and demanding by what authority he tres- 
passed upon the sacred precincts of a British garrison ? Now, ' ' Mad 
Anthony " was the last man in the world to be dragooned into polite- 
ness, and he replied in terms little short of those employed by the Ken- 
tuckians, and satisfactorily informed Captain Campbell, the British 
Commandant, that his only chance of safety was silence and civility. 
After some sharp messages on both sides, the war of the pen ceased, 
and the destruction of property began. Houses, stores, cornfields, or- 
chards, were soon wrapped in flames or leveled with the earth. The 
dwelling house and store of Colonel McKee, the Indian agent, shared 
the fate of the rest. 

All this was performed before the face of Captain Campbell, who was 
compelled to look on in silence, and without any effort to prevent it. 
There remains not the least question now that the Indians were not only 
encouraged in their acts of hostility by the English traders, but were 
actually supplied with arms, ammunition and provisions, by order of 
the English Commandant at Detroit, Colonel England* There re- 
mains a correspondence between this gentleman and McKee, in which 
urgent demands are made for fresh supplies of ammunition, and the 
approach of ' ' the enemy ' '' (as they called Wayne) is mentioned with great 
anxiety. After the battle of the Rapids, he writes that the Indians are 
much discouraged, and that " it will require great efforts to induce them 
to remain in a body''' Had Wayne been positively informed of this 
circumstance, he would scarcely have restrained his men from a more 
energetic expression of indignation. 

The Indian force being completely dispersed, their cornfields cut up 
and their houses destroyed, Wayne drew off from the neighborhood of 
the British post, and in order to hold the Indians permanently in check, 
he erected a fort at the junction of the Auglaize and Miami, in the very 
heart of the Indian country, to which he gave the appropriate name of 
Defiance. As this was connected with Fort Washington by various in- 
termediate fortifications, it could not fail completely to overawe the 
enemy, who, in a very short time, urgently and unanimously demanded 
peace. 

No victory could have been better timed than that of Wayne. The 
various tribes of Indians throughout the whole of the United States, en- 



* This gentleman was remarkable for his immense height and enormous quantity of flesh. After 
his return from America, the waggish Prince of Wales, who was himself no pigmy, became desirous 
of seeing him. Colonel England was one day pointed out to him by Sheridan, as he was in the act 
of dismounting from his horse. The Prince regarded him with marked attention for several min- 
utes, and then turning to Sheridan, said with a laugh, "Colonel England, hey 1 By Jovel you 
should have said Great Britain I " 



Enemy Routed and Driven Under British Guns. 553 

couraged by the repeated disasters of our armies in the Northwest, had 
become very unsteady and menacing in their intercourse wth the whites. 
The Creeks and Cherokees, in the South, were already in arms, while 
the Oneidas, Tuscaroras, &c, in the North, were evidently preparing 
for hostilities. The shock of the victory at the Rapids, however, was 
felt in all quarters. The southern Indians instantly demanded peace ; 
the Oneidas, conscious of their evil intentions and fearful of the conse- 
quences, became suddenly affectionate, even to servility ; and within a 
few months after the victory, all the frontiers enjoyed the most profound 
peace. The treaty of Greenville which followed, brought lasting peace 
and subjection. Wayne reported his loss at thirty-three killed and one 
hundred wounded. The Indian loss could not be ascertained, but was 
supposed to exceed that of the Americans. This, however, is very 
doubtful, as they gave way immediately, and were not so much exposed 
as the Continentals. 

The Battle of the Fallen Timbers, therefore, although a mere skir- 
mish in reality, must be judged by its effects. Had not Wayne taken 
such infinite pains to lead forth a compact, confident and well-drilled 
force, the battle would probably have been as much larger as its results 
might have been different. 

One circumstance attending their flight is remarkable and deserves to 
be inserted. Three Indians, being hard pressed by the cavalry upon 
one side and the infantry upon the other, plunged into the river and 
attempted to swim to the opposite shore. A runaway negro, who had 
attached himself to the American army, was concealed in the bushes on 
the opposite bank, and perceiving three Indians approaching nearer 
than in his opinion was consistent with the security of his hiding-place, 
he collected courage enough to level his rifle at the foremost, as he was 
swimming, and shot him through the head. The other two Indians in- 
stantly halted in the water, and attempted to drag the body of their 
companion ashore. The negro, in the meantime, reloaded his gun and 
shot another dead upon the spot. The survivor then seized hold of 
both bodies, and attempted, with a fidelity which seems astonishing, to 
bring them both to land. The negro having had leisure to reload a 
second time, and firing from his covert upon the surviving Indian, 
wounded him mortally while struggling with the dead bodies. He then 
ventured to approach them, and from the striking resemblance of their 
features, as well as their devoted attachment, they were supposed to 
have been brothers. After scalping them he permitted their bodies to 
float down the stream. 



554 Our Western Border. 

CAPTAIN WILLIAM WELLS AND ROBERT McCLELLAN. 
Two Most Daring Rangers — Their Thrilling Exploits. 

The body of scouts and rangers employed by General Wayne em- 
braced some of the most daring and famous woodsmen and Indian 
trackers that could be found on the borders. It is to this reason chiefly 
that may be ascribed his easy victory. The Indian scouting parties 
found him always ready — armed at every point. He could not be sur- 
prised — not even approached without a struggle. At length the savages, 
with whom surprise is half the battle, became completely discouraged 
and demoralized. They said: "No use fighting that man, his eye 
never shut." They used to call Wayne, when he was at Fort Wash- 
ington, General Chebang, which means to-morrow; because, they said, 
he was always promising them gifts to-morrow, but never gave any. 
Now they called him General All-eye. He had, indeed, learned much 
from the failures of other Generals. 

Captain Ephraim Kibby, a bold and intrepid scout from near Cin- 
cinnati, commanded the principal part of the spies. The most active 
sub-division was commanded by Captain William Wells, who had been 
taken prisoner when a youth, and who had grown to manhood with 
the Indians, under the name of Black Snake, and was, by consequence, 
well versed in all their wiles and stratagems. He became quite an in- 
fluential man among the Indians and married a sister of the celebrated 
chief, Little Turtle. He had fought Harmar and St. Clair by the side 
of his dusky brother-in-law, but he seems to have been ever visited with 
dim memories of his childhood home, of parents, brothers and play- 
mates, and to have been harassed with the thought that among the slain 
of those he was fighting against, may have been his own blood kindred. 
The approach of Wayne's army had stirred anew these heart memories 
and he resolved to part from the Indians, which he did in this open and 
honorable manner. Taking with him the great war chief, Little Turtle, 
to a secluded spot on the banks of the Maumee, Wells said to him : "I 
now leave your nation for my own people ; we have long been friends. 
We are friends yet until the sun reaches that height, (which he indi- 
cated). From that time we are enemies. Then if you wish to kill me, 
you may. If I want to kill you, I may." At the appointed hour, 
crossing the river, Wells plunged into the forest and struck the trail of 
Wayne's army. He had a long interview with Wayne and being des- 
perately brave, knowing well the Indian country and language, received 



Captain William Wells and Robert McClellan. 555 

a position of trust, and ever after remained faithful to the Americans. 
Two of Wells' daughters by Little Turtle's sister were educated in 
Kentucky, and became ladies of refinement and exemplary piety. He 
afterwards married another sister of Little Turtle, by whom he had one 
daughter. 

John McDonald, of Ohio, was attached to Kibby's Rangers, and 
gives very interesting details of some of the principal scouts and of 
their daring exploits. He was intimately acquainted with the facts and 
persons of whom he treats, and is said to be perfectly reliable. We 
quote : Attached to Captain Wells' command were the following : 
Robert M'Clellan (whose name has been since immortalized by the 
graphic pen of Washington Irving, in his " Astoria,") was one of the 
most athletic and active men on foot that has appeared on this globe. 
On the grand parade at Fort Greenville, where the ground was very 
little inclined, to show his activity, he leaped over a road wagon with 
the cover stretched over ; the wagon and bows were eight and a half 
feet high. 

Next was Henry Miller. He and a younger brother, named 
Christopher, had been made captives by the Indians when young, and 
adopted into an Indian family. Henry Miller lived with them till he 
was about twenty-four years of age ; and although he had adopted all 
their manners and customs, he, at that age, began to think of returning 
to his relatives among the whites. The longer he reflected on the sub- 
ject, the stronger his resolution grew to make an attempt to leave the 
Indians. He communicated his intention to his brother Christopher, 
and used every reason he was capable of, to induce his brother to 
accompany him in his flight. All his arguments were ineffectual. 
Christopher was young when made captive — he was now a good hunter, 
an expert woodsman, and, in the full sense of the word, a free and inde- 
pendent Indian. Henry Miller set off alone through the woods, and 
arrived safe among his friends in Kentucky. Captain Wells was well 
acquainted with Miller during his captivity, and knew that he possessed 
that firm intrepidity which would render him a valuable companion in 
time of need. To these were added a Mr. Hickman, and Mr. Thorp, 
who were men of tried worth in Indian warfare. 

Captain Wells and his four companions were confidential and privi- 
leged gentlemen in camp, who were only called upon to do duty upon 
very particular and interesting occasions. They were permitted a carte 
blanche among the horses of the dragoons, and, when upon duty, went 
well mounted: whilst the spies commanded by Captain Kibby went on 
foot, and were kept constantly on the alert, scouring the country in 
every direction. 



556 Our Western Border 



Singular Manner by which Henry Miller Regained his Brother. 

The headquarters of the army being at Fort Greenville, in the month 
of June, General Wayne dispatched Captain Wells and his company, 
with orders to bring into camp an Indian as a prisoner, in order that he 
could interrogate him as to the future intentions of the enemy. Cap- 
tain Wells proceeded with cautious steps through the Indian country. 
He crossed the river St. Mary, and thence to the river Auglaize, with- 
out meeting any straggling party of Indians. In passing up the Aug- 
laize they discovered a smoke ; they then dismounted, tied their horses 
and proceeded cautiously to reconnoitre the enemy. They found three 
Indians camped on a high, open piece of ground, clear of brush or any 
underwood. As it was open woods, they found it would be difficult to 
approach the camp without being discovered. 

While they were reconnoitering, they saw, not very distant from the 
camp, a tree which had lately fallen. They returned and went round 
the camp, so as to get the top of the fallen tree between them and the 
Indians. The tree-top, being full of leaves, would serve as a shelter* to 
screen them from observation. They went forward upon their hands 
and knees, with the noiseless movements of the cat, till they reached 
the tree-top. They were now within seventy or eighty yards of the 
camp. The Indians were sitting or standing about the fire, roasting 
their venison, laughing and making other merry antics, little dreaming 
that death was about stealing a march upon them. 

Arrived at the fallen tree, their purpose of attack was soon settled; 
they determined to kill two of the enemy, and make the third prisoner. 
McClellan, who, it will be remembered, was almost as swift on foot as 
a deer of the forest, was to catch the Indian, while to Wells and Miller 
was confided the duty of shooting the other two. One of them was to 
shoot the one on the right, the other the one on the left. Their rifles 
were in prime order, the muzzles of their guns were placed on the log 
of the fallen tree, the sights were aimed for the Indians' hearts — whiz 
went the balls and both Indians fell. Before the smoke of the burnt 
powder had risen six feet, McClellan was running at full stretch, with 
tomahawk in hand, for the Indian. 

The Indian bounded off at the top of his speed, and made down the 
river; but by continuing in that direction, he discovered that McClel- 
lan would head him. He turned his course and made for the river. 
The river here had a bluff bank, about twenty feet high. When he 
came to the bank he sprang down into the river, the bottom of which 
was a soft mud, into which he sunk to the middle. While he was en- 



Henry Miller Regains his Brother. 557 

deavoring to extricate himself out of the mud, McClellan came to the 
top of the high bank, and, without hesitation, sprang upon him, as he 
was wallowing in the mire. The Indian drew his knife — McClellan 
raised his tomahawk, told him to throw down his knife, or he would 
kill him instantly. He threw down his knife and surrendered without 
any further effort at resistance. 

By the time the scuffle had ceased in the mire, Wells and his compan- 
ions came to the bank, and discovered McClellan and the Indian 
quietly sticking in the mire. As their prisoner was now secure, they 
did not think it prudent to take the fearful leap the others had done. 
They selected a place where the bank was less precipitous, went down 
and dragged the captive out of the mud, and tied him. He was very 
sulky, and refused to speak either Indian or English. Some of the party 
went back for their horses, whilst others washed the mud and paint from 
the prisoner. When washed, he turned out to be a white man, but still 
refused to speak, or give any account of himself. The party scalped 
the two Indians whom they had shot, and then set off with their pris- 
oner for headquarters. 

While on their return to Fort Greenville, Henry Miller began to ad- 
mit the idea that it was possible their prisoner was his brother Christo- 
pher, whom he had left with the Indians some years previous. Under 
this impression he rode alongside of him, and called him by his Indian 
name. At the sound of his name he started and stared round, and 
eagerly inquired how he came to know his name. The mystery was 
soon explained — their prisoner was indeed Christopher Miller ! A mys- 
terious providence appeared to have placed Christopher Miller in a situ- 
ation in the camp by which his life was preserved. Had he been stand- 
ing on the right or left, he would inevitably have been killed. 

Captain Wells arrived safely with his prisoner at Fort Greenville. He 
was placed in the guard house, where General Wayne frequently inter- 
rogated him as to what he knew of the future intentions of the Indians. 
Captain Wells and Henry Miller were almost constantly with Christo- 
pher in the guard house, urging him to leave off the thought of living 
longer with the Indians, and to join his relatives among the whites. 
Christopher for some time was reserved and sulky, but at length became 
more cheerful, and agreed, if they would release him from confinement, 
that he would remain with the whites. Captain Wells and Henry Mil- 
ler solicited General Wayne for Christopher's liberty. General Wayne 
could scarcely deny such pleaders any request they could make, and 
without hesitation ordered Christopher Miller to be set at liberty ; re- 
marking, that should he deceive them and return to the enemy, they 
would be but one the stronger. Christopher was set at liberty, and ap- 



558 Our Western Border. 

peared pleased with his change of situation. He was mounted on a fine 
horse, and otherwise well equipped for war. He joined the company 
with Captain Wells and his brother, and fought bravely against the In- 
dians during the continuance of the war. He was true to his word, and 
upon every occasion proved himself an intrepid and daring soldier. 

As soon as Captain Wells and company had rested themselves and re- 
cruited their horses, they were anxious for another bout with the red- 
men. Time, without action, was irksome to such stirring spirits. Early 
in July they left Greenville ; their company was then strengthened by 
the addition of Christopher Miller ; their orders were to bring in pris- 
oners. They pushed through the country, always dressed and painted 
in Indian style ; they passed on, crossing the river St. Mary, and then 
through the country near to the river Auglaize, where they met a single 
Indian, and called to him to surrender. This man, notwithstanding 
that the whites were six against one, refused to surrender. He leveled 
his rifle, and as the whites were approaching him on horseback, he fired, 
but missed his mark, and then took to his heels to effect his escape. 
The undergrowth of brush was so very thick that he gained upon his 
pursuers. McClellan and Christopher Miller dismounted, and McClel- 
lan soon overhauled him. The Indian, finding himself overtaken by 
his pursuers, turned around and made a blow at McClellan with his 
rifle, which was parried. As McClellan's intention was not to kill, he 
kept him at bay till Christopher Miller came up, when they closed in 
upon him and made him prisoner, without receiving any injury. They 
turned about for headquarters, and arrived safely at Fort Greenville. 
Their prisoner was reputed to be a Pottawattamie chief, whose courage 
and prowess were scarcely equaled. As Christopher Miller had per- 
formed his part on this occasion to the entire satisfaction of the brave 
spirits with whom he acted, he had, as he merited, their entire confi- 
dence. 

I have selected only a few of the acts performed by Captain Wells 
and his enterprising followers, to show what kind of men they were. 
History, in no age of the world, furnishes so many instances of re- 
peated acts of bravery as were performed by the frontiermen of West- 
ern Pennsylvania, Western Virginia and Kentucky ; yet these acts of 
apparent desperation were so frequently repeated by numbers, that they 
were scarcely noticed at the time as being any other than the common 
occurrence of the day. I have no doubt that, during General Wayne's 
campaign, Captain Wells, and the few men he commanded, brought in 
not less than twenty prisoners, and killed more than an equal number. 
Desperate as they were in combat, that bravery was only a part of their 
merit, as demonstrated by the following circumstance : 



The Rangers Recklessly Enter a Hostile Camp. 559 

On one of Captain Wells' peregrinations through the Indian country, 
as he came to the bank of the river St. Mary, he discovered a family 
of Indians coming up the river in a canoe. He dismounted and con- 
cealed his men near the bank of the river, while he went himself to the 
bank, in open view, and called to the Indians to come over. As he 
was dressed in Indian style, and spoke to them in their own language, 
the Indians, not expecting an enemy in that part of the country, with- 
out any suspicion of danger, went across the river. The moment the 
canoe struck the shore, Wells heard the cocks of his comrades' rifles 
cry, "click, click," as they prepared to shoot the Indians; but who 
should be in the canoe but his Indian father and mother, with their 
children ! As his comrades were coming forward with their rifles 
cocked, ready to pour in the deadly storm upon the devoted Indians, 
Wells called upon them to hold their hands and desist. He then in- 
formed them who those Indians were, and solemnly declared that the 
man who would attempt to injure one of them would receive a ball in 
his head. He said to his men " that that family had fed him when he 
was hungry, clothed him when he was naked, and kindly nursed him 
when sick, and in every respect were as kind and affectionate to him 
as they were to their own children." 

This short, pathetic speech found its way to the sympathetic hearts of 
his leather-hunting-shirt comrades. Those hardy soldiers approved of 
the motives of Captain Wells' lenity to the enemy. They threw down 
their rifles and tomahawks, went to the canoe and shook hands with 
the trembling Indians in the most friendly manner. Captain Wells as- 
sured them they had nothing to fear from him ; and after talking with 
them to dispel their fears, 'he said " that General Wayne was approach- 
ing with an overwhelming force ; that the best thing the Indians could 
do was to make peace ; that the white men did not wish to continue 
the war. He urged his Indian father for the future to keep out of the 
reach of danger." He then bade them farewell : they appeared grate- 
ful for his clemency. They then pushed off their canoe, and went down 
the river as fast as they could propel her. 



The Five Rangers Recklessly Enter a Hostile Camp. 

Early in the month of August, when the main army had arrived at 
the place subsequently designated as Fort Defiance, General Wayne 
wished to be informed of the intentions of the enemy. For this pur- 
pose Captain Wells was again dispatched to bring in another prisoner. 
The distance from Fort Defiance to the British fort, at the mouth of the 



560 Our Western Border. 

Maumee river, was only forty-five miles, and he would not have to 
travel far before he would find Indians. As his object was to bring in 
a prisoner, it became necessary for him to keep out of the way of large 
parties, and endeavor to fall in with some stragglers, who might be 
easily subdued and captured. 

They went cautiously down the river Maumee till they came opposite 
the site on which Fort Meigs was erected by General Harrison, in 1 813. 
This was two miles above the British fort, then called Fort Campbell. 
On the west bank of the Maumee was an Indian village. Wells and his 
party rode into the village, as if they had just come from the British 
fort. Being dressed and painted in complete Indian style, they rode 
through the village, occasionally stopping and talking to the Indians in 
their own language. No suspicion of who they were was excited, the 
enemy believing them to be Indians from a distance coming to take 
a part in the battle which they all knew was shortly to be fought. After 
they had passed the village some distance, they fell in with an Indian 
man and woman on horseback, who were returning to the town from 
hunting. This man and woman were made captives without resistance, 
They then set off for Fort Defiance. 

As they were rapidly proceeding up the Maumee river, a little after 
dark, they came near a large encampment of Indians, who were merrily 
amusing themselves around their camp fires. Their prisoners were 
ordered to be silent, under pain of instant death. They went round 
the camp with their prisoners, till they got about half a mile above it, 
where they halted to consult on their future operations. After consult- 
ation they concluded to gag and tie their prisoners, and ride back to 
the Indian camp and give them a rally, in which each should kill his 
Indian. They deliberately got down, gagged and fastened their pris- 
oners to trees, rode boldly into the Indian encampment and halted, 
with their rifles lying across the pommels of their saddles. They in- 
quired when last they had heard of General Wayne and the movements 
of his army; how soon and where it was expected the battle would be 
fought. 

The Indians who were standing around Wells and his desperadoes 
were very communicative, answering all their interrogatories without 
suspecting any deceit in their visitors. At length an Indian, who was 
sitting some distance from them, said, in an undertone, in another 
tongue, to some who were near him, that he suspected that these stran- 
gers had some "mischief in their heads. Wells overheard what he said, 
and immediately gave the preconcerted signal, and each fired his rifle 
into the body of an Indian, at not more than six feet distance. The 
Indian who had suspected them, the moment he made the remark, and 



The Rangers Recklessly Enter a Hostile Camp. 561 

a number of others, rose up with their rifles in their hands, but not be- 
fore Wells and his party had each shot an Indian. 

As soon as Wells and his party fired, they put spurs to their horses, 
lying with their breasts on the horses' necks, so as to lessen the mark 
for the enemy to fire at. They had not got out of the light of the 
camp fire before the Indians shot at them. As McClellan lay close on 
his horse's neck he was shot, the ball passing under his shoulder blade, 
and coming out at the top of his shoulder. Captain Wells was shot 
through the arm on which he carried his rifle; the arm was broken and 
his trusty rifle fell. The rest of the party and their horses received no 
injury. 

After having performed this act of military supererogation, they rode 
at full speed to where their captives were confined, mounted them on 
horses, and set off for Fort Defiance. Captain Wells and McClellan 
were severely wounded ; and to Fort Defiance, a distance of about 
thirty miles, they had to travel before they could rest or receive the 
aid of a surgeon. As their march would be slow and painful, one of 
the party was dispatched at full speed to Fort Defiance, for a guard and 
a surgeon. As soon as Captain Wells' messenger arrived at Fort De- 
fiance, with the tidings of the wounds and perilous situation of these 
heroic and faithful spies, very great sympathy was manifested in the 
minds of all. General Wayne's feeling for the suffering soldier was at 
all times quick and sensitive ; we can then imagine how intense was his 
solicitude, when informed of the sufferings and perils of his confiden- 
tial and chosen band. Without a moment's delay, he dispatched a sur- 
geon, and a company of the swiftest dragoons, to meet, assist and 
guard these brave fellows to headquarters. Suffice to say, they arrived 
safely in camp, and the wounded recovered in due course of time.. 

As the battle was fought and a brilliant victory won a few days 
after this affair took place, Captain Wells and his daring comrades were 
not engaged in any further acts of hostility till the war with the In- 
dians was auspiciously concluded by a lasting treaty of peace. A new 
and happy era was about dawning on the West. A cruel and extermi- 
nating war, of nearly fifty years' continuance, was closed by a general 
peace with the redmen of the forest. 

What became of Thorp, Hickman, and the two Millers, I have never 
learned ; but, if alive, they probably reside in some smoky cabin in the 
far and distant West, unknown and unhonored. The last I heard of 
the brave, hardy and active McClellan, he had just returned to St. 
Louis, in 1812, from an expedition across the Rocky Mountains. He 
had been to the Pacific Ocean, at the mouth of the Columbia river. 
The fate of the brave and lamented Captain Wells was sealed during 
36 



562 Our Western Border. 

the war of 1812, near Fort Dearborn, at the mouth of the Chicago 
river, where he was slain in an unequal combat, sixty-four whites 
attacked by upwards of four hundred Indian warriors. Then fell as 
bold a spirit as ever shouldered a rifle or wielded a tomahawk. 



MORE ABOUT McCLELL AN— RESCUED BY A GIRL. 

Such a remarkably daring and marvelously agile scout as McClellan 
deserves a somewhat more lengthy notice than McDonald has given him, 
and fortunately we are enabled to supplement his relation from other 
sources. John, William and Robert McClellan were sons of a pioneer 
living in Cumberland county, Pa., and were early schooled in all the 
arts of woodcraft and inured to all the hardships of frontier life ; when 
mere boys they followed the business of pack-horse drivers, continuing 
in that business for several years after the Revolution. In 1790, 
Robert's reckless and restless disposition and personal prowess led him to 
seek adventures farther west, and he served as spy or ranger at Fort 
Gower, on the Kock -hocking, O., and soon made a name for himself, 
having many singular adventures ; one of these we condense from Rev. 
James B. Finley's autobiography. 

At the Hock-hocking block-house it was learned that the Indians were 
gathering in numbers at a large town situate where now stands Lancas- 
ter, O., for the purpose of striking some terrible blow upon the border. 
Two of the most skilled and fearless of the spies, White and McClellan, 
dauntless spirits that never quailed at any danger, and as tameless and 
unconquerable as Lybian lions, were sent out to watch the savages and 
report. They continued their march until they reached a remarkable 
prominence, now known by the name of Mount Pleasant, the western 
termination of which is a perpendicular cliff some hundreds of feet 
high. When this lofty point was gained, a fine outlook was enjoyed, 
and every movement of the Indians in the valley below could be dis- 
tinctly seen. They thence witnessed for many days their dances, sports, 
and the constant arrival of new war parties. They dare not kindle a 
fire or shoot game, depending for food on the jerk and parched corn 
they brought with them, and for drink on rain water found in hollows 
of the rocks. In a short time, however, their store was exhausted and 
McClellan and White must abandon their post or seek a new supply. 
The former being the oldest and most experienced, started out with rifle 
in hand and two canteens slung accoss his shoulders, and cautiously de- 



Rescued by a Girl. 563 

scending to the prairie, he reached the river, and turning a bold spur 
of a hill, found a very bountiful spring. He filled his canteens and re- 
turned safely. 

It was now determined to have a fresh supply of this delicious water 
daily, and the duty was performed alternately. One day after White 
had filled his canteens and was just about retiring, the light sound of 
footsteps caught his ear and upon turning he saw two squaws within a few 
feet of him. The elder of them, on sighting the white scout, stood 
petrified for a moment and then gave out a shrill and far-reaching In- 
dian yell. White knew his peril on the instant. If the alarm should 
reach the Indian town, death to him and McClellan was inevitable. 
Self-preservation demanded that he should sacrifice the squaws, so, with 
his usual promptness, he sprang upon his victims and grasping the throat 
of each, leaped with them into the river. He thrust the head of the 
eldest under the water, but while essaying to do the same to the younger, 
he met with powerful resistance, and during the sharp struggle with this 
active and resolute athlete, to his astonishment she addressed him in 
good English. 

Releasing her at once, she informed him that she had been taken 
captive with her brother below Wheeling ; had been a prisoner for ten 
years, and that her brother had succeeded in making his escape on the 
second night. By this time the elder squaw had been drowned and 
floated off with the current. White now directed the girl to follow 
him. They had scarce made half way back to the mount when the 
alarm cry was heard. It was supposed that a party of savages had 
struck the stream below where the squaw's body was floating past. 
White and the girl succeeded in regaining McClellan, and almost im- 
mediately after Indians could be seen scattering in every direction, and 
a party of some twenty warriors making for the mount. Their swarthy 
foes were now observed gliding from tree to tree and from rock to rock 
till their position was surrounded, except on the west perpendicular 
side, and all hope of escape was cut off. Nothing was left to the scouts 
but to sell their lives as dearly as possible, and the girl was advised to 
make her escape and tell the Indians she was forcibly taken prisoner. 
But, to their astonishment, she replied, "No! death to me, in the com- 
pany of my own people, is a thousand times sweeter than captivity with 
slavery. Furnish me with a gun, and I will show you I can fight as 
well as die. I leave not this place, and should either of you escape, 
you can carry the tidings of my death to my relations." 

Remonstrance proved fruitless. The scouts now matured their plan 
of defence, and commenced firing in front, where, from the very nar- 
row backbone of the hill or mount, the savages had to advance in single 



564 Our Western Border. 

file and without any covert. Beyond this neck the warriors availed 
themselves of rocks and trees, but, in passing from one to the other, 
they must expose themselves for a moment, which was enough for such 
unerring marksmen. 

A new danger now threatened. The watchful foe were preparing, 
also, to attack them in flank, which could be done only in one way — 
by reaching an isolated rock lying in one of the ravines on the southern 
hillside, and which dominated the scouts' position. There could 
then be no escape, and the scouts saw the hopelessness of their situa- 
tion. Nothing could avert their fate but a brave companion and a far- 
reaching rifle. Soon McClellan saw a swarthy figure crouching along a 
ledge of rock and preparing to spring from a covert so near to the fatal 
rock that a bound or two would reach it. But a small portion of the 
Indian's body was exposed, but McClellan resolved to risk all rather 
than have him reach the rock. 

So, coolly raising his rifle to his face and shading the sight with his 
. hand, he drew a sure and careful bead. He touched the trigger with 
his finger ; the hammer came down, but, in place of the timely spark 
of fire, the flint broke into many pieces. While hurriedly adjusting 
another flint, but keeping his eye constantly on the fascinating spot, he 
saw the fearless savage stretching every muscle for the leap ; with the 
agility of a crouched panther, he made the spring, but instead of reach- 
ing the rock, he gave a most appalling yell, and his dark body fell, roll- 
ing down into the valley below. 

He had evidently received a death blow from some unknown hand. 
A hundred voices, from a hundred anxious onlookers, re-echoed the 
terrible shout. But it would not do to give up the important enterprise 
with only one failure, so another " brave " was soon seen advancing to 
take the place of the former. At the same time the attack in front was 
renewed with increased fury, so as to require the undivided attention of 
both spies to save their position. With despair McClellan saw the sec- 
ond warrior in the very act of leaping. The spring was made, and, 
turning a complete somersault, his corpse, also, rolled down the hill. 
Again some mysterious agent had interposed in their behalf. This sec- 
ond misadventure cast dismay into the ranks of the assailants, and they 
shortly after withdrew to concert some new plan of attack. 

Now, for the first time, they had opportunity to look about for their 
female companion. She was gone — killed, perhaps, or escaped to her 
former friends. They were not left long to conjecture. The fair 
maid was soon seen emerging from a rock with a rifle in her hand, 
and the mystery was soon cleared up. 

During the heat of the fight she had seen a warrior fall who had ad- 



Rescued by a Girl. 565 

vanced some distance before the rest, and she formed the quick resolve 
of getting his gun and ammunition. Crouching down beneath the un- 
derbrush, she slowly crawled to his body and succeeded in gaining his 
rifle. Her keen and practiced eye had early noticed the fatal rock, as 
also the attempt to reach it. Hers had been the hand by which the 
two warriors had fallen, the latter being the most blood-thirsty of the 
Shawnees and the leader of the very company which had killed her 
mother and sister, and taken her and her brother prisoners. 

Darkness, deep and gloomy, soon shrouded the whole scene. It was 
determined to use the girl's knowledge of localities to effect their es- 
cape. Should they stumble across foes, they hoped much from her 
knowledge of the Indian tongue. Scarcely had they descended half 
way down, before a low whist ! from the girl warned them of danger. 
The spies sank silently to earth and awaited the signal from her to move 
on again. For a quarter of an hour she did not return, and their sus- 
pense grew intolerable. At length she appeared, telling them she had 
succeeded in removing two sentinels who were awaiting their descent 
on the only practicable route. 

The journey was noiselessly resumed, and the spies followed their in- 
trepid leader for a half mile in the profoundest silence, when the sud- 
den bark of a dog near at hand apprised them of danger. The almost 
simultaneous click of the scouts' rifles was heard by the girl, who in- 
formed them they were now in the midst of the Indian camps, and their 
lives depended on utter silence and closely following in her footsteps. 

A moment after the girl was accosted by a squaw from an opening in 
her wigwam ; she replied in the Shawnee tongue and pressed on with- 
out stopping. Now she pauses, and assures her companions that the vil- 
lage is cleared and that the greatest danger is passed. She knew that 
every pass from the mountain was carefully watched by foes, and 
adopted the hazardous adventure of passing through the centre of the 
village during the absence of the men. A course direct ^for the Ohio 
was now steered, and after three days' travel the block-house was 
reached. Their escape saved the station for the present, and the res- 
cued girl. was restored to her friends, proving to be the sister of the in- 
trepid Corneal Washburn, long known as the renowned spy of Simon 
Kenton's Kentuckians. 

James McBride says, that McClellan was a man of the most extraor- 
dinary activity. Many marvelous stories are related of his athletic ex- 
ploits. While at Fort Hamilton, he would frequently leap over the 
tallest horse without apparent exertion. In the town of Lexington, 
Ky., when passing along a narrow sidewalk with Matthew Heuston, a 
yoke of oxen happened to be drawn up on the sidewalk and instead of 



566 Our Western Border. 

walking around them, as did his companion, he, without a moment's hes- 
itation, leaped over both at a bound. We have already stated, that 
when with the army at Greenville, at a special trial of soldiers and 
teamsters, he leaped over a wagon with a covered top — a height of eight 
feet and a half. 

McClellan's Adventures, as Recorded p,y Washington Irving. 

After General Wayne had made peace and disbanded the army, 
Robert McClellan made his home with his brother William, at Hamil- 
ton, Ohio, spending most of his time on long hunting rambles. In '99 
he drifted to New Orleans, and was long ill of the yellow fever, and 
then went East to secure a pension, but it being much smaller than he 
thought he had a right to expect, his proud spirit spurned it altogether. 
General James O'Hara, the enterprising merchant of Pittsburgh, hear- 
ing much of McClellan and his services, engaged him at Carlisle, and, 
by care and diligence, he soon became a good scribe and careful ac- 
countant. 

In 1 80 1 McClellan went to St. Louis on business connected with the 
commissary department, and retiring from the service, commenced trad- 
ing furs with the Indians. He made many long trading expeditions up 
the Missouri. In 1808 he entered into partnership with Ramsay Crooks, 
and Washington Irving gives an interesting account of one of his ad- 
ventures with a large band of Sioux, excited to hostility against them 
by rival French traders. In 1810 a party of Sioux broke up one of his 
trading establishments while he was away hunting. But they did not 
know the fiery and resolute spirit they had to deal with. On his return, 
he went boldly among them and demanded restoration, and actually 
compelled a return of all the goods that had not as yet been carried off 
— about $500 worth. It was while dispirited by a constant run of ill 
luck, that he was admitted as partner by Astor's Fur Company — the 
leader of which, Mr. Hunt, had often heard of, and tried to secure him 
— to accompany them as guide and hunter to the far distant Pacific. 

At this time he wrote home to his brother W T illiam: "Six days ago 
I arrived at this place from my establishment, two hundred miles above 
on the Missouri. My mare is with you at Hamilton, having two colts. 
I wish you to give one to brother John, the other to your son Tames, 
and the mare to your wife. If I possessed anything more but my gun, 
I would throw it into the river or give it away, as I intend to begin the 
world anew to-morrow." 

At that time the expedition to the mouth of the Columbia river was 
like going to the end of the world. 



McClellan's Adventures. 567 

Frequent mention is made of McClellan in Irving's Astoria; in fact, 
the distinguished author has therein immortalized the scout. He thus 
describes his hero: " McClellan was a remarkable man. He had been 
a partisan under General Wayne, and had distinguished himself by his 
fiery spirit and reckless daring, and most marvelous stories were told of 
his exploits. His frame was meagre but muscular, showing strength, 
activity and iron firmness. His eyes were dark, deep-set and piercing. 
He was reckless, fearless, but of impetuous and sometimes ungovernable 
temper." 

We need not mention all the adventures and vicissitudes he passed 
through on that long and perilous excursion, lasting several years, but 
will only condense one passage from Irving's charming book, to show 
the obstinacy and fearless, independent spirit of the man. 

When Mr. Reed determined to make an expedition to the States, 
McClellan, who was very decided and self-willed, concluded to go with 
it. The expedition had terrible times with the Indians, and was com- 
pletely broken up. Robert Stuart afterwards started, with four trusty, 
well-tried men as guides and hunters. McClellan again determined to 
join the return party, and set out from Astoria on the 28th of June, 
181 2. After ascending the Columbia for ninety miles, one of the hunt- 
ers became insane, and had to be sent back in charge of Indians. The 
remaining six went up the river slowly and painfully for six hundred 
miles, and, on July 31st, struck off, on horseback, for the overland jour- 
ney. 

They soon found themselves approaching the fatal region of the Snake 
river, and had not long proceeded on those craggy wastes and wilds, ere 
they found themselves among baked and naked hills, without water, a 
burning sky above and a parched desert beneath. Their'sufferings from 
thirst became intense. They toiled and struggled on and on, and on 
September 12th, were surrounded with insolent and hostile Crow In- 
dians, who dogged the party for six days, and finally succeeded in steal- 
ing and driving off every horse they had. They were now on foot, in 
a barren wilderness, having a journey of two thousand miles before 
them, and the danger of starvation imminent. Their adventures were 
exceedingly perilous and interesting, but we must hurry on. 

They soon built some rafts and embarked on Mad river, and kept 
along for six days longer, when a landing was effected and preparations 
made to resume the journey on foot. Each had a pack of about twenty 
pounds of jerked meat. Their march was slow and toilsome, along the 
base of a mountain. Discovering Indian sign, however, a consultation 
was held, and it was thought prudent, in order to avoid wandering 
parties of Indians, to strike directly across the mountains. 



568 Our Western Border. 

This counsel was indignantly derided by McClellan as pusillanimous. 
Impatient and hot-headed at all times, he was now made more irascible 
by the fatigues of the journey and the condition of his feet, which were 
chafed and sore. He could not endure facing a lofty and craggy moun- 
tain, and swore he would rather cope with all the Blackfeet in the coun- 
try. 

He was overruled, however, and the party began to ascend, striving, 
with the ardor of young men, who should be first up. McClellan, who 
was double the age of most of his companions, soon began to lose 
breath and fall in the rear. It now became his turn, too, to carry the 
old beaver trap. Piqued and irritated, he suddenly came to a halt, 
swore he would not carry it any further, and jerked it halfway down the 
hill. He was offered, in place of it, a package of dried meat, but this 
he scornfully threw upon the ground. They might carry it, he said, 
who needed it, but for his part, he could provide his daily food with his 
rifle. He concluded by turning directly off from the party and keep- 
ing along the skirt of the mountain, leaving those, he said, to climb 
rocks who were afraid of Indians. 

McClellan Alone in a Desert — Reduced to Starvation. 

In vain the rashness of his course was pointed out to him, and the 
dangers to which he exposed himself. He rejected such counsels as 
craven. He turned a deaf ear to every remonstrance, and kept on his 
willful and solitary way. 

Strange instance of perverseness in this odd character thus to fling 
himself off amid those savage wilds, where not only solitude must have 
been insupportably dismal, but where every step was full of peril. Mc- 
Clellan, however, was a man of peculiar temper, ungovernable in his 
will, of a courage that absolutely knew no fear and somewhat, too, of a 
braggart spirit, that took special pride in doing desperate and hair- 
brained things. Stuart and his party pursued their course. When on the 
mountain they could descry McClellan pushing his own solitary route. 

Ten days after they encamped on a small stream where they met 
traces of McClellan, who was still keeping ahead of them through those 
desolate mountains. They found the embers of the fire by which he 
had slept and the remains of a wolf on which he had supped. He had 
fared better than they, for they had nothing to eat. The next night 
the famishing wanderers perceived a large smoke to the southeast, and 
such was their dread of starvation that they joyfully forged ahead, 
thinking it an Indian encampment. 

Le Claire, a Canadian, was dispatched to reconnoitre, while they lay 



Reduced to Starvation. 569 

down supperless to sleep. Next day they saw Le Claire approaching, 
with no news except from that strange wanderer McClellan. It was his 
encampment which had taken fire while he was absent fishing. He, 
too, was in a forlorn condition, and had wandered twelve days with scarce 
anything to eat. He had been ill, wayworn, sick at heart, yet still he 
kept on, but now his strength and stubbornness were both exhausted, 
and he said he would wait at his camp until the rest came up. 

When they reached the spot, they found the old scout lying on a 
parcel of withered grass, wasted to a skeleton and so feeble that he could 
scarcely raise his head to speak. They had no food for him, but they 
urged him to rise and go with them. He shook his head. It was all in 
vain. He argued he might as well stay and die where he was. At 
length they got him on his legs, carried his rifle and effects and cheered 
and aided him forward. 

They proceeded about seventeen miles and were preparing to lie 
down to sleep when Le Claire, gaunt and wild with hunger, approached 
Stuart, gun in hand, and urged that it was vain to go further without 
food, and proposed that lots should be cast and one should die to save 
the rest, and adding, as an inducement for Stuart to assent, that he, as 
leader, should be exempt from the lot. Stuart was shocked, and 
attempted to reason with the man, but in vain. At length, snatching 
up his rifle, he threatened to shoot him if he ever proposed such a thing 
again. The man was cowed, begged pardon and promised never to so 
offend again. 

We need not follow them on their mournful route. They traveled 
on thus until the 2d of November, when they came to a river bottom, 
covered with a thick growth of willow and trees for fuel and shelter, 
and plenty of game about. Here they made their Winter camp, and 
in the course of only two days, killed thirty-two buffalo, and the next 
day fifteen more from a herd which tramped right through their en- 
campment. They now built a comfortable cabin, and new clothes were 
made from the deer skins so abundantly brought in. They made the 
mountains echo with their rifles, and in two days more, killed twenty- 
eight big-horns and black-tailed deer. 

The party now commenced to live like fighting cocks, and enjoyed 
their repose for several weeks, when, alas ! (sic gloria transit mundt) 
one morning, at daybreak, they were startled by a cavage yelp, and peep- 
ing out, they beheld several Indian warriors among the trees, all armed 
and painted for war. McClellan was just at home in an Indian scrim- 
mage. He had taken his gun apart the evening before, and while now 
putting it together with all haste, he proposed they should break out 
the clay from between the logs of their cabin, so as to be able to fire at 



570 Our Western Border. 

the intruders. Not a word was uttered by the rest, but all silently 
slung their horns and pouches and prepared for battle. 

Stuart thought best, however, to first try the effect of a parley, so, 
holding his rifle in one hand and extending the other to him who looked 
as if he were leader, he boldly advanced. The Indian chief took the 
proffered hand, and all his men did the same. It now appeared they 
were a war party of Arapahoes in pursuit of a band of Crows. This 
party of twenty-three remained two whole days, being liberally feasted 
by the whites, but no sooner had they gone when the luckless travelers 
held council. On one side of them were their old enemies, the Crows, 
and on the other the Arapahoes, no less dangerous freebooters. The 
security of their cabin was at an end, and with it all their dreams of a 
quiet and cosey Winter. It was reluctantly concluded to abandon their 
princely quarters and to turn out upon the plains again, now covered 
with snow. 

For fourteen days they struggled on. The snow lay fifteen inches 
deep. No game, but miserable, broken-down bull buffalo. At length 
they came to an immense plain, with no vestige of timber or living 
animal. Here their hearts failed them. The river on which they were, 
they judged to be the Platte, but to go on at that -season was dangerous 
in the extreme. It was at length concludld to retrace their last three 
days' journey of seventy-seven miles to a place where they had ob- 
served both timber and abundance of game. They reached the spot. 
Herds of buffalo were scattered about the neighboring prairie, and a 
shed was put up and plenty of game killed. 

They were fortunate in this encampment, for the Winter passed with- 
out anything to molest. They shaped two large canoes, and, as Spring 
opened, prepared to embark. They tried navigation, but the water 
was too shallow, and they had to go afoot again. Their future travels, 
though interesting, had nothing very remarkable about them. They 
struck the Missouri, embarked on its rapid and turbid bosom, and on 
April 30th, having been ten months making their toilsome and perilous 
return expedition, they arrived safely at St. Louis. 

Their return created quite a sensation, as it was the first news from 
Hunt's party in his adventurous expedition across the Rocky Moun- 
tains. But so many hardships and privations had broken down the iron 
constitution of the^ once agile and hardy scout. He never recovered 
from that extraordinary series of wilderness tramps. He settled at 
Cape Girardeau, but the decline of his health was so rapid that he died 
towards the end of 181 4, aged over fifty. 



Chapter IX* 



A SERIES OF THRILLING EVENTS. 

Adventures of May, Johnston, Flinn and Skyles. 

In vain ! the tide of life flows on, 

On the daring hunters' track, 
And not the Indians' high emprise 

Can turn the current back. — Julian. 

Mr. John May, a gentleman of Virginia and surveyor of Kentucky 
lands, had become so extensively involved in business as to require the 
aid of a clerk. A i^fto he employed Charles Johnston, a young man 
scarcely twenty years ff^age. Johnston accompanied his employer to 
Kentucky in the Summer of mg ; returned to Virginia in the Autumn 
of the same year, and in February, 1790, it became necessary to re- 
turn to Kentucky, in order to complete the business which had been 
left unfinished on the former trip. Heretofore they had traveled by 
land, but on the present occasion, May determined to descend the Great 
Kanawha and Ohio by water. 

They, accordingly, traveled by the usual route to Green Briar court 
house, where the town of Lewisburg has since been built, and from 
thence crossed the wilderness which lay between that point and the Great 
Kanawha. After suffering much from the weather, which was intensely 
cold, they at length reached Kelly's station upon the Kanawha, from 
which point May proposed to embark. Having purchased a boat, such 
as was then used for the navigation of the western waters, they em- 
barked in company with Mr. Jacob Skyles, a gentleman of Virginia, 
who had at that time a stock of dry goods intended for Lexington, and 
without any accident, in the course of a few days, they arrived at Point 
Pleasant. Here there was an accession to their number of three per- 
sons, a man named Flinn and two sisters of the name of Fleming. Flinn 
was a hardy borderer, accustomed from his youth to all the dangers of 
the frontiers, and the two Misses Fleming were women of low station. 
They were all natives of Pittsburgh and were on their way to Kentucky. 



572 Our Western Border. 

At Point Pleasant they learned that roving bands of Indians were 
constantly hovering upon either bank of the Ohio, and were in the habit 
of decoying boats ashore under various pretences, and murdering or 
taking captives all who were on board ; so that, upon leaving, they de- 
termined that no considerations should induce them to approach either 
shore, but, steeling their hearts against every entreaty, they would reso- 
lutely keep the middle of the current and leave distressed individuals to 
shift for themselves. The Spring freshet was at its height at the time 
of their embarkation, and their boat was wafted rapidly down the 
stream. There was no occasion to use the side oars, and it was only 
necessary for one to watch at the steering oar, in order to keep the boat 
in the current. 

On the morning of the 20th, when near the junction of the Scioto, 
they were awakened at daylight by Flinn, whose turn it was to watch, 
and informed that danger was at hand. All sprang to their feet, and 
hastened upon deck. The cause of Flinn's alarm was quickly evident. 
Far down the river a smoke was seen, ascending in thick wreaths above 
the trees, and floating in thinner masses over the bed of the river. They 
perceived that it could only proceed from a large fire. As the boat 
drifted on, it became evident that the fire was upon the Ohio shore, and 
it was determined to put over to the opposite side. Before this could 
be done, however, two white men ran down upon the beach, and clasp- 
ing their hands in the most earnest manner, implored the crew to take 
them on board. They declared that they had been taken by a party of 
Indians in Kennedy's Bottom, a few days before — had been conducted 
across the Ohio, and had just effected their escape. They added, that 
the enemy was in close pursuit of them, and that their death was cer- 
tain, unless admitted on board. 

Resolute in their purpose, on no account to leave the middle of the 
stream, and strongly suspecting the suppliants of treachery, the party 
paid no attention to their entreaties, but steadily pursued their course 
down the river, and were soon considerably ahead of them. The two 
white men now ran down the bank, in a line parallel with the course of 
the boat, and their entreaties were changed into the most piercing cries 
and lamentations upon perceiving the obstinacy with which their request 
was disregarded. The obduracy of the crew soon began to relax. Flinn 
and the two females, accustomed from their youth to undervalue danger 
from the Indians, earnestly insisted upon going ashore and relieving the 
white men, and even the incredulity of May began to yield. May called 
to them from the deck of the boat, where he stood, and demanded the 
cause of the large fire, the smoke of which had caused so much alarm. 
The white men positively denied that there was any fire near them. 



Adventures of May, Johnston, Flinn and Skyles. 573 

This falsehood was so palpable, that May's former suspicion returned 
with additional force, and he positively insisted upon continuing their 
course without paying the slightest attention to the request of the men. 

This resolution was firmly seconded by Johnston and Skyles, and 
as vehemently opposed by Flinn and the Misses Fleming. Flinn urged 
that the men gave every evidence of real distress which could be 
required, and recounted, too, many particular circumstances attending 
their capture and escape, to give color to the suspicion that their story 
was invented for the occasion, and added that it would be a burning 
shame to them and theirs forever, if they should permit two country- 
men to fall a sacrifice to the savages when so slight a risk on their part 
would suffice to relieve them. He acknowledged that they had lied in 
relation to the fire, but declared himself satisfied that it was only be- 
cause they were fearful of acknowledging the truth, lest the crew should 
suspect that Indians were concealed in the vicinity. The controversy 
became warm, and during its progress the boat drifted so far below the 
men, that they appeared to relinquish their pursuit in despair. 

At this time Flinn made a second proposal, which, according to his 
method of reasoning, could be carried into effect without the slightest 
risk to any one but himself. They were now more than a mile below 
the pursuers. He proposed that May should only touch the hostile 
shore long enough to permit him to jump out. That it was impossible 
for Indians (even admitting that they were at hand) to arrive in time 
to arrest the boat, and even should any appear, they could immediately 
put off from shore and abandon him to his fate. That he was confident 
of being able to outrun the red devils, if they saw him first, and was 
equally confident of being able to see them as soon as they could see 
him. May remonstrated against so unnecessary an exposure — but Flinn 
was inflexible, and, in an evil hour, the boat was directed to the shore. 
They quickly discovered, what ought to have been known before, that 
they could not float as swiftly after leaving the current as while borne 
along by it, and they were nearly double the time in making the shore 
that they had calculated upon. When within reach Flinn leaped fear- 
lessly upon the hostile bank, and the boat grated upon the sand. At 
that moment five or six savages ran up out of breath, from the adjoin- 
ing woods, and seizing Flinn, began to fire upon the boat's crew. John- 
ston and Skyles sprung to their arms, in order to return the fire, while 
May, seizing an oar, attempted to regain the current. Fresh Indians 
arrived, however, in such rapid succession, that the beach was quickly 
crowded by them, and May called out to his companions to cease firing 
and come to the oars. This was done, but it was too late. 



574 Our Western Border. 



Decoy Successful and the Boat Captured by Savages. 

The river was very high, and their clumsy and unwieldy boat had be- 
come entangled in the boughs of the trees which hung over the water, 
so that after the most desperate efforts to get her off, they were com- 
pelled to relinquish the attempt in despair. During the whole of this 
time the Indians were pouring a heavy fire into the boat, at a distance 
not exceeding ten paces. Their horses, of which they had a great 
number on board, had broken their halters, and, mad with terror, were 
plunging so furiously as to expose them to a danger scarcely less 
dreadful than that which menaced them from shore. In addition to 
this, none of them had ever beheld a hostile Indian before, (with the 
exception of May,) and the furious gestures and appalling yells of the 
enemy struck a terror to their hearts which almost deprived them of 
their faculties. Seeing it impossible to extricate themselves, they all 
lay down upon their faces, in such parts of the boat as would best pro- 
tect them ftom the horses, and awaited in passive helplessness the ap- 
proach of the conquerors. The enemy, however, still declined board- 
ing, and contented themselves with pouring in an incessant fire, by 
which all the horses were killed, and which at length began to grow 
fatal to the crew. One of the females received a ball in her mouth, 
which had passed immediately over Johnston's head, and almost instantly 
expired. Skyles, immediately afterwards, was severely wounded in 
both shoulders, the ball striking the right shoulder blade and ranging 
transversely along his back. The fire seemed to grow hotter every 
moment, when, at length, May arose and waved his night cap above his 
head as a signal of surrender. He instantly received a ball in the mid- 
dle of the forehead and fell perfectly dead by the side of Johnston, 
covering him with his blood. 

Now, at last, the enemy ventured to board. Throwing themselves 
into the water, with their tomahawks in their hands, a dozen or twenty 
swam to the boat and began to climb the sides. Johnston stood ready 
to do the honors of the boat, and, presenting his hand to each Indian 
in succession, he helped them over the side to the number of twenty. 
Nothing could appear more cordial than the meeting. Each Indian 
shook him by the hand, with the usual salutation of " How de do," in 
passable English, while Johnston encountered every visitor with an af- 
fectionate squeeze and a forced smile in which terror struggled with 
civility. The Indians then passed on to Skyles and the surviving Miss 
Fleming, where the demonstrations of mutual joy were not quite so 
lively. Skyles was writhing under a painful wound, and the girl was 



Decoy Successful and the Boat Captured. 575 

sitting by the dead body of her sister. Having shaken hands with all 
their captives the Indians proceeded to scalp the dead, which was 
done with great coolness, and the reeking scalps were stretched and 
prepared upon hoops for the usual process of drying, immediately 
before the eyes of the survivors. 

The boat was then drawn ashore, and its contents examined with 
great greediness. Poor Skyles, in addition to the pain of his wounds, 
was compelled to witness the total destruction of his property by the 
hand of these greedy spoilers, who tossed his silks, cambric and broad- 
cloth into the dirt with the most reckless indifference. At length they 
stumbled upon a keg of whiskey. The prize was eagerly seized and 
everything else abandoned. The Indian who had found it carried it 
ashore, and was followed by the rest with tumultuous delight. A large 
fire nearly fifty feet long was kindled, and victors and vanquished in- 
discriminately huddled around it. As yet no attempt had been made 
to strip the prisoners, but, unfortunately, Johnston was handsomely 
dressed in a broadcloth surtout, red vest, fine ruffled shirt and a new 
pair of boots. The Indians began to eye him attentively, and at 
length one of them, whose name he afterwards learned was Chick-a- 
tommo, a Shawnee chief, came up to him, and gave the skirt of his coat 
two or three hard pulls, accompanied by several gestures which were 
not to be mistaken. Johnston stripped off his coat, and very politely 
handed it to him. His red waistcoat was now exposed to full view and 
attracted great attention. Chick -a-tommo said, "Ugh! you big Cappa- 
tain !" Johnston hastily assured him that he was mistaken, that he was 
no officer, nor had any connection with military affairs whatever. 

The Indian then drew himself up, pointed with his finger to his Own 
breast, and exclaimed, "Me Cappatain ! all dese," pointing to. his 
men, "my sogers!" The red waistcoat accompanied the surtout, and, 
Johnston quickly stood shivering in his shirt and pantaloons. An old 
Indian then came up to him, and placing one hand upon his own shirt (a 
greasy, filthy garment, which had not, probably, been washed for six 
months) and the other upon Johnston's ruffles, cried out, in English, 
"Swap! Swap!" at the same time giving the ruffles a gentle pull with 
his dirty fingers. Johnston, conquering his disgust at the proposal, was 
about to comply, and had drawn his shirt over his head, when it was 
violently pulled back by another Indian, whose name, he afterwards 
learned, was Tom Lewis. His new ally then reproached the other In- 
dian severely for wishing to take the shirt from a prisoner's back in 
such cold weather, and directly afterwards threw his own blanket over 
Johnston's shoulders. The action was accompanied by a look so full 
of compassion and kindness, that Johnston, who had expected far dit- 



576 Our Western Border. 

i 
ferent treatment, was perfectly astonished. He now saw that native 
kindness of heart and generosity of feeling were by no means rare even 
among savages. 

The two white men who had decoyed them ashore, and whose names 
where Devine and Thomas, now appeared, and took their seats by the 
side of the captives. Sensible of the reproach to which they had ex- 
posed themselves, they hastened to offer an excuse for their conduct. 
They declared that they really had been taken in Kennedy's Bottom a 
few days before, and that the Indians had compelled them, by threats 
of instant death in case of refusal, to act as they had done. They con- 
cluded by some common-place expressions of regret for the calamity 
which they had occasioned, and declared that their own misery was ag- 
gravated at beholding that of their countrymen ! In short, words were 
cheap with them, and they showered them out in profusion. But John- 
ston and Skyles' sufferings had been and still were too severe to per- 
mit their resentment to be appeased by such light atonement. Their 
suspicions of the existence of willful and malignant treachery on the 
part of the white men, (at least one of them,) were confirmed by the 
report of a negro, who quickly made his appearance, and, as it ap- 
peared, had been taken in Kentucky a few days before. He declared 
that Thomas had been extremely averse to having any share in the 
treachery, but had been overruled by Devine, who alone had planned, 
and was most active in the execution of the project, having received a 
promise from the Indians that, in case of success, his own liberty 
should be restored to him. This report has been amply confirmed by 
subsequent testimony. 

In a few minutes, six squaws, most of them very old, together with 
two white children, a girl and a boy, came down to the fire, and seated 
themselves. The children had lately been taken from Kentucky. 
Skyles' wound now became excessively painful, and Flinn, who, in the 
course of his adventurous life, had picked up some knowledge of sur- 
gery, was permitted to examine it. He soon found it necessary to 
make an incision, which was done very neatly with a razor. An old 
squaw then washed the wound, and having caught the bloody water in 
a tin cup, presented it to Skyles, and requested him to drink it, assur- 
ing him that it would greatly accelerate the cure. He thought it most 
prudent to comply. 

During the whole of this time, the Indians remained silently smoking 
or lounging around the fire. No sentinels were posted in order to pre- 
vent a surprise, but each man's gun stood immediately behind him, with 
the breech resting upon the ground, and the barrel supported against 
a small pole, placed horizontally upon two forks. Upon the slightest 



Canoe Captured and Six Killed, 577 

alarm, every man could have laid his hand upon his own gun. Their 
captors were composed of small detachments from several tribes. Much 
the greater portion belonged to the Shawnees, but there were several 
Delawares, Wyandots and a few wandering Cherokees. After smoking, 
they proceeded to the division of their prisoners. Flinn was given to 
a Shawnee warrior ; Skyles to an old, crabbed, ferocious Indian of the 
same tribe, whose temper was sufficiently expressed in his countenance, 
while Johnston was assigned to a young Shawnee chief, whom he repre- 
sented as possessed of a disposition which would have done him honor 
in any age or in any nation. 

His name was Messhawa, and he had just reached the age of man- 
hood. His person was tall, and expressive rather of action than 
strength ; his air was noble, and his countenance mild, open and pecu- 
liarly prepossessing. He evidently possessed great influence among 
those of his own tribe, which, as the sequel will show, he exerted with 
great activity on the side of humanity. The surviving Miss Fleming 
was given to the Cherokees, while the Wyandots and the Delawares were 
not allowed to share in the distribution. No dissatisfaction, however, 
was expressed. The division had been proclaimed by an old chief in a 
loud voice, and a brief guttural monosyllable announced their concur- 
rence. After the distribution of their captives, Flinn, Devine and 
Thomas were ordered to prepare four additional oars for the boat 
which they had taken, as they had determined to man it, and assail 
such other boats as should be encountered during their stay on the 
Ohio, These and several other preparations occupied the rest of the 
day. 

Canoe Captured and Six Killed — Exciting Chase and Repulse. 

On the next morning the Indians arose early, and prepared for an 
encounter, expecting, as usual, that boats would be passing. They 
dressed their scalp tufts and painted their faces in the most ap- 
proved manner before a pocket glass which each carried with him, 
grimacing and frowning in order to drill their features to the ex- 
pression of the most terrific passions. About ten o'clock a canoe con- 
taining six men was seen, slowly and laboriously ascending the river 
upon the Kentucky shore. All the prisoners were immediately ordered 
to descend the bank to the water's edge and decoy the canoe within 
reach of the Indian guns. Johnston, with whatever reluctance, was 
compelled to accompany the rest. Devine on this, as on the former oc- 
:. was peculiarly active and ingenious in stratagems. He invented 
a lamentable story of their canoe having been overset and of their starv- 



578 Our Western Border. 

ing condition, destitute as they were of either guns or axes. It was with 
agony that Johnston beheld the canoe put off from the Kentucky shore, 
and move rapidly towards them, struggling with the powerful current, 
which bore them so far below them that they could not distinguish the 
repeated signs which Johnston made, warning them to keep off. The 
Indians perceiving how far the canoe was driven below them, ran rap- 
idly down the river, under cover of the woods, and concealed them 
selves among the willows, which grew in thick clusters upon the bank. 
The unsuspecting canoemen soon drew near, and when within sixty 
yards, received a heavy fire which killed every man on board. Some 
fell into the river, and overset the canoe, which drifted rapidly down 
the current, as did the bodies of the slain. The Indians sprang into 
the water, and dragging them ashore, tomahawked two of them who 
gave some signs of life, and scalped the whole. 

Scarcely had this been done when a more splendid booty appeared in 
view. It happened that Captain Thomas Marshall, of the Virginia 
artillery, with several other gentlemen, were descending the Ohio, hav- 
ing embarked only one day later than May. They had three boats, 
weakly manned but heavily ladened with horses and dry goods, in- 
tended for Lexington. About twelve o'clock, on the second day of 
Johnston's captivity, the little flotilla appeared about a mile above the 
point where the Indians stood. Instantly all was bustle and activity. 
The additional oars were fixed to the boat, the savages sprang on board, 
and the prisoners were compelled to station themselves at the oars, and 
were threatened with death unless they used their utmost exertions to 
bring them alongside of the enemy. The three boats came down very 
rapidly, and were soon immediately opposite their enemy. The Indians 
opened a heavy fire upon them, and stimulated their rowers to their ut- 
most efforts. The boats became quickly aware of their danger, and a 
warm contest of skill and strength took place. There was an interval 
of one hundred yards between each of the three boats in view. The 
hindmost was for a time in great danger. Having but one pair of oars, 
and being weakly manned, she was unable to compete with the Indian 
boat, which greatly outnumbered her both in oars and men. 

The Indians quickly came within rifle shot, and swept the deck with 
an incessant fire, which rendered it extremely dangerous for any of the 
crew to show themselves. Captain Marshall was on board the hind- 
most boat, and maintained his position at the steering oar in defiance 
of the shower of balls which flew around him. He stood in his shirt sleeves, 
with a red silk handkerchief bound around his head, which afforded a 
fair mark to the enemy, and steered the boat with equal steadiness and 
skill, while the crew below relieved each other at the oars. The enemy 



Exciting Chase and Repulse. 579 

lost ground from two circumstances. In their eagerness to overtake 
the whites they had left the current, and attempted to cut across the 
river from point to point, in order to shorten the distance. In doing 
so, however, they lost the force of the current, and quickly found 
themselves dropping astern. 

In addition to this, the whites conducted themselves with great cool- 
ness and dexterity. The second boat waited for the hindmost, and re- 
ceived her crew on board, abandoning the goods and horses, without 
scruple, to the enemy. Being now more strongly manned, she shot 
rapidly ahead, and quickly overtook the foremost boat, which, in like 
manner, received her crew on board, abandoning the cargo as before, 
and, having six pair of oars and being powerfully manned, she was 
soon beyond the reach of the enemy's shot The chase lasted more 
than an hour. For the first half hour the fate of the hindmost boat- 
hung in mournful suspense, and Johnston, with agony, looked forward 
to the probability of its capture. The prisoners were compelled to labor 
hard at the oars, but they took care never to pull together, and by every 
means in their power endeavored to favor the escape of their friends. 

At length the Indians abandoned the pursuit and turned their whole 
attention to the boats which had been deserted. The booty surpassed 
their most sanguine expectations. Several fine horses were on board, 
and flour and chocolate in profusion. Another keg of whiskey was 
found and excited the same immoderate joy as at first. It was unani- 
mously determined to regale themselves in a regular feast, and prepara- 
tions were made to carry their resolution into effect. A large kettle of 
chocolate and sugar, of which the sugar formed the greater part, was 
set upon the fire, which an old squaw stirred with a dirty stick. John- 
ston was promoted on the spot to the rank of cook, and received orders 
to bake a number of flour cakes in the fire. A deer skin, which had 
served for a saddle blanket, and was most disgustingly stained by having 
been applied to a horse's sore back, was given him as a tray, and being 
repeatedly ordered to "make haste," he entered upon his new office 
with great zeal. 

By mixing a large portion of sugar with some dumplings, which he 
boiled in chocolate, he so delighted the palates of the Indians, that they 
were enthusiastic in their praises, and announced their intention of keep- 
ing him in his present capacity as long as he remained with them. The 
two kegs, which had been carefully guarded, were nqw produced, and 
the mirth began to border on the "fast and furious." A select band, 
as usual, remained sober, in order to maintain order and guard against 
surprise, but the prisoners were invited to get drunk with their red 
brothers. Johnston and Skyles declined the invitation, but Flinu, with- 



580 Our Western Border. 

out waiting to be asked twice, joined the revelers, and soon became as 
drunk as any of them. In this situation he entered into a hot dispute 
with an Indian, which, after much abuse on both sides, terminated in 
blows, and his antagonist received a sad battering. Several of his tribe 
drew their knives and rushed upon Flinn with fury, but were restrained 
amid peals of laughter by the others, who declared that Flinn had 
proved himself a man, and should have fair play. 

In the meantime, Johnston and Skyles had been bound and removed 
to a convenient distance from the drinking party, with the double -de- 
sign of saving their lives, and guarding escape. While lying in this 
manner, and totally unable to help themselves, they beheld, with terror, 
one of the revelers staggering towards them, with a drawn knife in his 
hand, and muttering a profusion of drunken curses. He stopped with- 
in a few paces of them, and harangued them with great vehemence for 
nearly a minute, until he had worked himself up into a state of insane 
fury, when suddenly uttering a startling yell, he sprang upon the pros- 
trate body of Skyles and seizing him by the hair endeavored to scalp 
him. Fortunately he was too much intoxicated to exert his usual dex- 
terity, and before he had succeeded in his design, the guard ran up at 
full speed and seizing him by the shoulders, hurled him violently back- 
wards to the distance of several yards. The drunken beast rolled upon 
the ground, and with difficulty recovering his feet, staggered off, mut- 
tering curses against the white man, the guard, himself, and the whole 
world. Skyles had only felt the point of the knife, but had given up 
his scalp for lost, and rubbed the crown of his head several times with 
feverish apprehension, before he could be satisfied that his scalp was 
still safe. 



Johnston Bothered by a Cow — The Game of " Nosey." 

No other incident occurred during the night, and on the following 
morning the Indians separated. Those to whom Flinn belonged re- 
mained at the river, in expectation of intercepting other boats, while 
Johnston's party struck through the wilderness, in a steady direction, 
for their towns. During their first day's march he afforded much 
amusement to his captors. In the boat abandoned by Captain Mar- 
shall, they found a milch cow, haltered in the usual manner. Upon 
leaving the river, they committed her to the care of Johnston, requiring 
him to lead her by the halter. Being totally unaccustomed to this 
method of traveling, she proved very refractory and perplexed him ex- 
ceedingly. When he took one side of a tree, she regularly chose the 
other. Whenever he attempted to lead her, she planted her feet firmly 



Johnston Bothered by a Cow. 581 

before her, and refused to move a step. When he strove to drive her, 
she ran off into the bushes, dragging him after her, to the no small 
injury of his person and dress. The Indians were in a roar of laughter 
throughout the whole day, and appeared highly to enjoy his perplexity. 

At night they arrived at a small encampment, where they had left 
their women and children. Here, to his great joy, Johnston was re- 
lieved of his charge, and saw her slaughtered with the utmost gratifica- 
tion. At night, he suffered severely by the absence of the benevolent 
Messhawa, to whose charge, as we have already stated, he had been com- 
mitted. The Indians were apprehensive of pursuit, and directed Mes- 
shawa, at the head of several warriors, up to the rear, to give them 
seasonable warning of any attempt on the part of the whites to regain 
their prisoners. In his absence, he had been committed to an Indian 
of very different character. While his new master was engaged in 
tying his hands, as usual, for the night, he ventured to complain that 
the cords were drawn too tight, and gave him unnecessary pain. The 

Indian flew into a passion, exclaiming, "D your soul!" and 

drew the cord with all the violence of which he was capable, until it 
was completely buried in the flesh. Johnston, in consequence, did not 
sleep for a moment, but passed the whole night in exquisite torture. 
In the morning Messhawa came up, and finding his prisoner in a high 
fever, -and his hands excessively swollen, cut the cords, and exchanged 
some high words with the other Indian upon the subject. 

The march was quickly recommenced, and Johnston could not avoid 
congratulating himself every moment upon his good fortune in having 
Messhawa for his guide. Skyles' master seemed to take pleasure in 
tormenting him. In addition to an enormous quantity of baggage, he 
compelled him to carry his rifle, by which his raw wound was per- 
petually irritated and prevented from healing. Messhawa permitted 
Johnston to share his own mess on all occasions, while the savages to 
whom Skyles belonged would scarcely permit him to eat a dozen 
mouthfuls a day, and never without embittering his meat with curses 
and blows. In a few days they arrived at the Scioto river, which, from 
the recent rains, was too high to admit of being forded. The Indians 
were immediately employed in constructing a raft, and it was necessary 
to carry one very large log several hundred yards. Two Indians, with 
a handspike, supported the lighter end, while the butt was very chari- 
tably bestowed upon Johnston alone. Not daring to murmur, he 
exerted his utmost strength, and aided by several Indians, with some 
difficulty, succeeded in placing the enormous burden upon his shoulder. 
He quickly found, however, that the weight was beyond his strength, 
and wishing to give his two companions in front warning of his inability 



582 Our Western Border. 

to support it, he called to them in English to " take care !" They did 
not understand him, however, and continued to support it, when, find- 
ing himself in danger of being crushed to death, he dropped the log so 
suddenly that both Indians were knocked down, and lay for a time 
without sense or motion. They soon sprang up, however, and drawing 
their tomahawks, would instantly have relieved Johnston of all his 
troubles had not the other Indians, amid peals of laughter, restrained 
them, and compelled them to vent their spleen in curses, which were 
showered upon " Ketepels," as he was called, for the space of an hour, 
with great fury. 

After crossing the Scioto, the Indians displayed a disposition to loiter 
and throw away time, but little in unison with Johnston's feelings, who 
was anxious to reach their towns as speedily as possible, flattering him- 
self with the hope that some benevolent trader would purchase him of 
the Indians and restore him to liberty. They amused themselves at a 
game called " Nosey," with a pack of cards which had been found in 
one of the abandoned boats. The pack is equally divided between two 
of them, and by some process, which Johnston did not understand, each 
endeavored to get all the cards into his own possession. The winner 
had a right to ten fillips at his adversary's nose, which the latter was 
required to sustain with inflexible gravity, as the winner was entitled to 
ten additional fillips for every smile which he succeeded in forcing from 
him. At this game they would be engaged for a whole day, with the 
keenest interest, the bystanders looking on with a delight scarcely in- 
ferior to that of the gamblers themselves, and laughing immoderately 
when the penalty was exacted. 

When gaming, they were usually kind to the prisoners, but this ray 
of sunshine was frequently very suddenly overcast. Johnston ventured 
to ask an old Shawnee chief how far they would be forced to travel be- 
fore reaching his village. The old man very good-naturedly informed 
him by drawing a diagram upon the sand with a stick, pointing out the 
situation of the Ohio river, of the Scioto, and of the various Indian 
villages, and pointing to the sun, he waved his hand once for every day 
which they would employ in the journey. Johnston then ventured to 
ask "how many inhabitants his village contained?" The old man re- 
plied that the Shawnees had once been a great nation, but (and here his 

.eyes flashed fire, and he worked himself into a furious passion) the "Long 
Knives" had killed nearly the whole of his nation. " However," con- 
tinued he, "so long as there is a Shawnee alive, we will fight ! fight 1 

fight ! When no Shawnee — then no fight." 

The prisoners were also in great danger whenever the Indians passed 
through a forest which had been surveyed, and where the marks of the 






The Game of "Nosey." 583 

axe on the trees were evident. They would halt upon coming to such 
a tree, and, after a few minutes' silence, would utter the most terrible 
yells, striking the trees with their hatchets and cursing the prisoners 
with a fierceness which caused them often to abandon all hopes of life. 
On one occasion they passed suddenly from the most ferocious state of 
excitement to the opposite extreme of merriment at a slight disaster 
which befell Johnston. They were often compelled to ford creeks, but 
upon one occasion they attempted to pass upon a log. The morning 
was bitterly cold and frosty, and the log having been barked was con- 
sequently very slippery. In passing upon this bridge Johnston's foot 
slipped, and he fell into the cold water with an outcry so sudden and 
shrill that the whole party, which the instant before had been inflamed 
with rage, burst at once into loud -laughter, which, at intervals, was 
maintained for several miles. Sometimes they amused themselves by 
compelling their prisoners 'to dance, causing them to pronounce, in a 
tone bordering on music, the words, " Mom-ne-kah ! He-kah-hal* ! 
Was-sat-oo ! Hos-ses-kah !" and this monotonous and fatiguing exer- 
cise was occasionally relieved by the more exciting one of springing 
over a large fire when the blaze was at its highest, in which they could 
only escape injury by the greatest activity. 

The painful journey had now lasted nearly a month, and the Indian 
towns were yet at a great distance. Hitherto, Skyles and Johnston 
had remained together, but, by the whimsical fancy of their captors, 
they were now separated. Skyles was borne off to the Miami towns, 
while Johnston was destined for Sandusky. A few days after this 
separation, Johnston's party fell in with a Wyandot and a negro man, 
who, having run away from Kentucky, had been taken up by the Wy- 
andot, and retained as an assistant in a very lucrative trade which he 
was at that time carrying on with the Indians of the interior. He was 
in the habit of purchasing whiskey, powder, blankets, &c, at Detroit, 
generally upon credit, packing them upon horses into the interior, and 
exchanging them at a profit of nearly a thousand per cent, for furs and 
hides. This casual rencontre in the wilderness was followed by great 
demonstrations of joy on both sides. The trader produced his rum, 
the Shawnees their merchandise, and a very brisk exchange ensued. 
Johnston's boots, for which he had paid eight dollars in Virginia, were 
gladly given for a pint of rum, and other articles were sold at a pro- 
portionate price. 

Johnston, as before, .was removed from the immediate neighborhood 
of the travelers and committed to the care of two sober Indians, 
with strict injunctions to prevent his escape. They, accordingly, bound 
him securely, and passing the ends of the cord under their own bodies, 



584 Our Western Border. 

lay down to sleep, one upon each side of their prisoner. At midnight 
Johnston was awakened by a heavy rain, although his guides slept on 
with most enviable composure. Unable to extricate himself, and fear- 
ful of awakening them, he was endeavoring to submit with patience, 
when the negro appeared and very courteously invited him to take 
shelter in his tent, which stood within fifty yards of the spot where he 
lay. Johnston was beginning to explain to his black friend the impos- 
sibility of moving without the consent of his guards, when they sud- 
denly sprang to their feet, and seizing the negro by the throat, and at 
the same time grasping Johnston's collar, they uttered the alarm halloo 
in the most piercing tones. The whole band of drunken Indians in- 
stantly repeated the cry, and ran up, tomahawk in hand, and with the 
most ferocious gestures. Johnston gave himself up for lost, and the 
negro looked white with terror, bat their enemies conducted themselves 
with more discretion than, from their drunken condition, could have 
been anticipated. 

They seized Johnston, bore him off a few paces into the woods, and 
questioned him closely as to the conference between himself and the 
negro. He replied by simply and clearly stating the truth. They 
then grappled the negro, and, menacing him with their knives, threat- 
ened to take his scalp on the spot if he did not tell the truth. His story 
agreed exactly with Johnston's, and the Indians became satisfied that no 
plot had been concerted. The incident, however, had completely 
sobered them, and for several hours the rum cask gave way to the 
dancing ring, which was formed in front of the negro's tent, where 
Johnston had been permitted, after the alarm subsided, to take shelter 
from the rain. He quickly fell asleep, but was grievously tormented by 
the nightmare. He dreamed that he was drowning in the middle of a 
creek which he had crossed on the morning, and his respiration became 
so painful and laborious that he at length awoke. The song and the 
dance were still going on around him, and the cause of his unpleasant 
dream was quickly manifest. A huge Indian had very composedly 
seated himself upon his breast, and was smoking a long pipe and con- 
templating the dancers, apparently very well satisfied with his seat. 
Johnston turned himself upon his side and threw the Indian off. He 
did not appear to relish the change of place much, but soon settled 
himself and continued to smoke with uninterrupted gravity. 



The Two Children Saved by Messhawa. 585 

The Two Children Saved by the Young Chief, Messhawa. 

At daylight a new scene presented itself. The warriors painted 
themselves in the most frightful colors, and performed a war dance, 
with the usual accompaniments. A stake, painted in alternate stripes 
of black and vermilion, was fixed in the ground, and the dancers 
moved in rapid but measured evolutions around it. They recounted, 
with great energy, the wrongs they had received from the whites. Their 
lands had been taken from them — their corn cut up — their villages burnt 
— their friends slaughtered — every injury which they had received was 
dwelt upon, until their passions had become inflamed, beyond all con- 
trol. Suddenly Chick-a-tommo darted from the circle of dancers, and 
with eyes flashing fire, ran up to the spot where Johnston was sitting, 
calmly contemplating the spectacle before him. When within reach he 
struck him a furious blow with his fist, and was preparing to repeat it 
when Johnston seized him by the arms, and hastily demanded the cause 
of such unprovoked violence. Chick-a-tommo, grinding his teeth with 
rage, shouted, " Sit down ! sit down! " Johnston obeyed, and the In- 
dian, perceiving the two white children within ten steps of him, snatched 
up a tomahawk, and advanced upon them with a quick step and a de- 
termined look. 

The terrified little creatures instantly arose from the log on which 
they were sitting and fled into the woods, uttering the most piercing 
screams, while their pursuer rapidly gained upon them, with his toma 
hawk uplifted. The girl, being the youngest, was soon overtaken, and 
would have been tomahawked, had not Messhawa bounded like a deer 
to her relief. He arrived barely in time to arrest the uplifted tomahawk . 
of Chick-a-tommo, after which he seized him by the collar and hurled him 
violently backward to the distance of several paces. Snatching up the 
child in his arms, he then ran after the brother, intending to secure him 
likewise from the fury of his companion, but the boy, misconstruing his 
intention, continued his flight with such rapidity, and doubled several 
times with such address, that the chase was prolonged to the distance of 
several hundred yards. At length Messhawa succeeded in taking him. 
The boy, thinking himself lost, uttered a wild cry, which was echoed 
by his sister, but both were instantly calmed. Messhawa took them in 
his arms, spoke to them kindly and soon convinced them that they had 
nothing to fear from him. He quickly reappeared, leading them gently 
by the hand, and soothing them in the Indian language, until they both 
clung to him closely for protection. No other incident disturbed the 
progress of the ceremonies, nor did Chick-a-tommo appear to resent the 
violent interference of Messhawa. 



586 Our Western Border. 

Their rum was not yet exhausted, and after the conclusion of the war 
dance, they returned to it with renewed vigor. A lame Mingo, on a 
solitary hunting excursion, soon joined them, and, with drunken hospi- 
tality, was pressed and in some degree compelled to get drunk with 
them. They soon became very affectionate and the Mingo, taking ad- 
vantage of the momentary generosity produced by the rum, ventured to 
ask that Johnston might be given to him for a particular purpose, which 
he explained to them. He said that he had lately killed a warrior of 
the Wyandot tribe, whose widow had clamorously demanded that he 
(the Mingo) should either procure her another husband or lay down 
his own life as the penalty for the slain Wyandot. He added that he 
was too poor to procure her another husband, unless he should take that 
honorable office upon himself, for which he had but small inclination, the 
squaw in question being well stricken in years, tolerably crooked, and 
withal a most terrible scold, and that he must submit to the other alter- 
native and lay down his life, unless the Shawnees would have compas- 
sion upon him and give him Johnston, who (he said) being young and 
handsome, would doubtless be acceptable to the squaw aforesaid, and 
console her faithful heart for the loss of her former husband. 

He urged his suit with so much earnestness that the Shawnees re- 
lented, and assured him that Johnston should be delivered into his 
hands. This was accordingly done, without the slightest regard to the 
prisoner's inclination, and within an hour the whole party took leave of 
him, shaking him heartily by the hand and congratulating him upon his 
approaching happiness, telling him that there was a fine squaw waiting 
for him at the Wyandot town. Johnston would have liked the adoption 
better without the appendage of the bride, but thinking that if she were 
one of the furies, her society would be preferable to the stake and hot 
irons, he determined to make the best of his condition, and wear his 
shackles as easily as possible, until an opportunity offered of effecting 
his escape. His new master, after lingering around the late encamp- 
ment until late in the day, at length shouldered his wallet and moved 
off by the same route which the Shawnees had taken. By noon on the 
following day they came up with them, when a curious scene ensued. 
As soon as the Shawnees had become sober they repented their late 
liberality, and determined to reclaim their prisoner ; the Mingo stoutly 
demurred, and a long argument took place, accompanied by animated 
gestures and not a few oaths on both sides. At length Messhawa put 
an end to the wrangling by seizing a horse by the halter and ordering 
Johnston instantly to mount. He then sprang upon another, and 
applying the lash smartly to both horses, he quickly bore the 
prisoner beyond the sound of the Mingo's voice. An hour's ride 



The Two Children Saved by Messhawa, 587 

brought them to Upper Sandusky, where Messhawa dismounted and 
awaited the arrival of Chick-a-tommo. He quickly appeared, accom- 
panied by his party and followed by the discontented Mingo. The 
latter regarded Johnston from time to time with so earnest a counte- . 
nance, and appeared so desirous of approaching him, that the latter 
became alarmed lest, in the rage of disappointment, he should inflict 
upon the prisoner the vengeance which he dared not indulge against 
the Shawnees. But his fears were quickly relieved. The Mingo dogged 
him so faithfully that he at length came upon him while alone, and ap- 
proaching him with a good-natured smile presented a small pamphlet 
which Johnston had dropped on the preceding day. Having done this, 
he shook him by the hand, and immediately left the village. 

At Sandusky Johnston became acquainted with M. Duchouquet, a 
French trader, who had for several years resided among the Indians, 
and was extensively engaged in the fur trade. To him he recounted 
his adventures, and earnestly solicited his good offices in delivering him 
from the Indians. Duchouquet promptly assured him that every exer- 
tion should be used for that purpose, and lost no time in redeeming his 
pledge. That evening he spoke to Chick-a-tommo, and offered a liberal 
ransom for the prisoner, but his efforts were fruitless. The Shawnee 
chief did not object to the price, but declared that no sum should 
induce them to give him up, until they had first taken him to their 
towns. This answer was quickly reported to Johnston, and filled him 
with despair. But as the Shawnee party were engaged in another drinking 
bout, he entreated Duchouquet to seize the favorable moment, when 
their hearts were mellowed with rum, and repeat his offer. The French- 
man complied, and was again peremptorily refused. Johnston now 
desired him to inquire of Chick-a-tommo the name of the town to which 
he was to be taken, and the fate which was in reserve for him upon 
his arrival there. 

To the first question Chick-a-tommo promptly replied, that the prisoner 
was to be carried to the Miami villages, but to the second he gave no 
satisfactory answer, being probably ignorant himself upon the subject. 
The mention of the Miami villages completely extinguished every spark 
of hope which still existed in Johnston's breast, as those towns had 
heretofore been the grave of every white prisoner who had visited them, 
He had also heard that the Indians carefully concealed from their vic- 
tims the fate which awaited them, either from some instinctive feelings 
of compassion, or, more probably, from policy, in order to prevent the 
desperate efforts to escape which were usual with prisoners who were 
informed of their destiny. Under these circumstances he gloomily 
abandoned himself to despair, and lay down in helpless expectation of 



588 Our Western Border. 

his fate. But no sooner had he abandoned the case, than fortune, as 
usual, put in her oar, and displayed that capricious but omnipotent 
power for which she has so long and so deservedly been celebrated. 
The same Wyandot trader, who had encountered them in the wilderness, 
now again appeared at Sandusky, with several horses laden with kegs .of 
rum, and in the course of two days completely stripped them of every 
skin, blanket and article of merchandise which had escaped his rapacity 
before. 

On the morning of the third day Chick-a-tommo and his party awoke 
as from a dream, and found themselves poor, destitute, ragged and hun- 
gry, without the means of supplying any of their wants. Ashamed to 
return to their village in this condition, after having sent before them 
so magnificent a description of their wealth, they determined to return 
to the Ohio, in hopes of again replenishing their purses at the expense 
of emigrants. They accordingly appeared, of their own accord, before 
Duchouquet, and declared, that as the scalp of their prisoner would be 
transported more easily than his person, they had determined to burn 
him on that evening — but, if he still wished to purchase him, they 
would forego the expected entertainment for his sake, and let him have 
the prisoner upon good terms. Duchouquet eagerly accepted the offer, 
and counted down six hundred silver broaches, the ordinary price of a 
prisoner. The Indians lost no time in delivering him into the trader's 
hands, and, having taken an affectionate leave of him, they again set 
out for the Ohio. 

Johnston's gratification may easily be conceived, but on the follow- 
ing day his apprehensions returned with renewed vigor. To his great 
surprise, Chick-a-tommo and his party again made their appearance at 
Sandusky, having abandoned their contemplated trip to the Ohio, and 
loitered about the village for several days, without any visible cause for 
such capricious conduct. Johnston, recollecting their former whimsi- 
cal bargain with the Mingo, was apprehensive that the same scene was 
to be repeated, and, resolving not to be taken alive, he armed himself 
and awaited calmly their determination. His suspicions, however, 
were entirely groundless. They passed him several times without the 
slightest notice, and at length set off in earnest for Detroit, leaving him 
at full liberty with his friend Duchouquet. 

Flinn Endures Torture — Wonderful Escape of Skyles. 

On the evening of their departure a Delaware arrived from the 
Miami villages, with the heart-rending intelligence that his unfortunate 
companion, Flinn, had been burned at the stake a few days before. 



Flinn Heroically Endures Torture. 589 

The savage declared that he himself had been present at the spectacle, 
had assisted in torturing him, and had afterwards eaten a portion of 
his flesh, which he declared "was sweeter than bear's meat." The intel- 
ligence was fully confirmed on the following day by a Canadian trader, 
who had just left the Miami towns. He stated that Flinn had been 
taken to their villages, and at first had entertained strong hopes of 
being adopted, as his bold, frank and fearless character had made con- 
siderable impression upon his enemies. But the arrival of some wild 
chiefs from the extreme northern tribes, most of whom were cannibals, 
had completely changed his prospects. A wild council was held, in 
which the most terrible sentiments with regard to the whites were 
uttered. The custom of adopting prisoners was indignantly reprobated, 
as frivolous and absurd, and the resolution proclaimed that henceforth 
no quarter should be given to any age, sex or condition. Flinn was 
accordingly seized and fastened to the stake. The trader was one of the 
spectators. Flinn quickly observed him, and asked if he was not 
ashamed to witness the distress of a fellow creature in that manner, 
without making some effort to relieve him, upon which he immediately 
ran to the village and brought out several kegs of rum, which he offered 
as a ransom for the prisoner. 

The Indians, who, by this time, were in a terrible rage, rejected the 
offer with fierceness, and split the heads of the kegs with their toma- 
hawks, suffering the liquor to flow unheeded upon the ground. The 
disappointed trader again returned to the village, and brought out six 
hundred silver broaches. They in turn were rejected, with additional 
fury, and not without a threat of treating him in the same manner if 
he again interfered. The trader, finding every effort vain, communi- 
cated his ill success to Flinn, who heard him with composure, and barely 
replied, "Then all I have to say is, God have mercy upon my sou//" 
The scene of torture then commenced, amid whoops and yells, which 
struck terror to the heart of the trader, but which the prisoner bore 
with the most heroic fortitude. Not a groan escaped him. He walked 
calmly around the stake for several hours, until his flesh was roasted and 
the fire had burned down. An old squaw then approached in order to 
rekindle it, but Flinn, watching his opportunity, gave her so furious a 
kick in the breast that she fell back totally insensible, and for several 
minutes was entirely unable to take any further share in the ceremony. 
The warriors then bored his ankles, and passing thongs through the sin- 
ews, confined them closely to the stake, so that he was unable afterwards 
to offer the same resistance. His sufferings continued for many hours, 
until they were at length terminated by the tomahawk. 

Within a few days he also heard of Skyles. After leaving Johnston, 



590 Our Western Border. 

this gentleman had been conducted to one of the towns on the Miami 
of the Lake, near the scene of Flinn's execution, where, as usual, he 
was compelled to run the gauntlet. The Indian boys were his chief 
tormentors. One of the little urchins displayed particular address and 
dexterity in his infernal art. He provided himself with a stout switch 
taken from a thorn tree, upon which one of the largest thorns had been 
permitted to remain. As Skyles passed him, he drove the keen instru- 
ment up to the head in his naked back. The switch was completely 
wrested from his grasp, and was borne by Skyles, sticking in his back, 
to the end of his painful career. He continued in the hands of the same 
crabbed master, who had taken such pleasure in tormenting him upon 
the march through the wilderness, but had found means to make himself 
so acceptable to his squaw, that his time was rendered more agreeable 
than he could have anticipated. He carried water for her, gathered her 
wood, and soothed her sullen temper by a thousand little artifices, so 
that her husband, who stood in some awe of his helpmate, was com- 
pelled to abate somewhat of his churlishness. 

He at length reaped the fruit of his civilities. The squaw returned 
one evening alone to the wigwam, and informed Skyles, in confidence, 
that his death had been determined on in council, and that the follow- 
ing day had been appointed for his execution. He at first doubted the 
truth of this startling intelligence, and retiring to rest as usual, feigned 
to be asleep, but listened attentively to the conversation of the old 
squaw with her daughter, a young girl of fifteen. His doubts were 
quickly dispelled. His approaching execution was the subject of con- 
versation between them, and their language soon became warm. The 
old lady insisted upon it that he was a good man, and ought to be 
saved, while the girl exulted at the idea of witnessing his agonies, de- 
claring, repeatedly, that the "white people were all devils," and ought 
to be put to death. At length they ceased wrangling, and composed 
themselves to rest. Skyles immediately arose, took down his master's 
rifle, shot bag and corn pouch, and stepping lightly over the bodies of 
the family, quickly gained the woods, and bent his steps to the banks of 
the Miami river. Without an instant's delay he plunged into the stream 
and swam to the opposite side. In so doing, however, he completely 
ruined his rifle, and was compelled to throw it away. Retaining the 
wallet of parched corn, he directed his steps to the southward, intend- 
ing, if possible, to strike the settlements in Kentucky, but so poor a 
woodsman was he, that after a hard march of six hours, he again stum- 
bled upon the Miami, within one hundred yards of the spot where he 
had crossed it before. 

While anxiously meditating upon the best means of avoiding the dan- 



Wonderful Escape of Skyles. 591 

gers which surrounded him, he heard the tinkle of a bell within a few 
hundred yards of the spot where he stood, and hastily directing his steps 
towards it, he saw a horse grazing quietly upon the rank grass of the 
bottom. Instantly mounting him, he again attempted to move in a 
southern direction, but was compelled, by the thickness of the wood 
and the quantity of fallen timber, to change his course so frequently 
that he again became bewildered, and, abandoning his horse, deter- 
mined to prosecute his journey on foot. Daylight found him in a deep 
forest, without a path to direct him, without the means of procuring 
food, and without the slightest knowledge of any of those signs by 
which an experienced woodsman is enabled to direct his course through 
a trackless wilderness with such unerring certainty. Fearful of stum- 
bling unawares upon some Indian town, he lay concealed all day, and at 
night recommenced his journey. But fresh perplexities awaited him at 
every step. He was constantly encountering either a small village or a 
solitary wigwam, from which he was frequently chased by the Indian 
dogs, with such loud and furious barking, that he more than once con- 
sidered detection inevitable. 

In this manner he wandered through the woods for several days, 
until, faint with hunger, he determined, at ail risks, to enter an Indian 
village, and either procure food or perish in the attempt. Having 
adopted this resolution, he no longer loitered on the way, but throwing 
himself boldly upon the first path which presented itself, he followed it 
at a brisk and steady pace, careless to what it might lead. About four 
o'clock in the afternoon he came so suddenly upon a village that it was 
impossible to retreat without exposing himself to detection, and as he 
considered it madness to enter it in daylight, he concealed himself 
among some old logs until nightfall, when he sallied out like an owl or 
a wolf in search of something to allay the piercing pangs of hunger. 
Nothing could be picked up upon the skirts of the village, as neither 
roasting ears nor garden fruit were in season, and it became necessary 
to enter the town or perish of hunger. Fortunately, the embers of a 
decayed fire lay near him, in which he found a sufficient quantity of 
coal with which to black his face and hands, and having completely dis- 
guised himself in this manner, he boldly marched into the hostile town, 
to take such fate as it should please heaven to send. He fortunately had 
with him the remnant of a blanket, which he disposed about his person 
in the usual Indian manner, and imitating at the same time their strag- 
gling gait, he kept the middle of the street and passed unquestioned by 
squaw or warrior. 

Fortunately for him, the streets were almost entirely deserted, and, as he 
afterwards learned, most of the warriors were absent. Security, however, 



592 Our Western Border. 

was not his present object so much as food, which indeed had now be- 
come indispensable. Yet how was he to obtain it? He would not have 
hesitated to steal, had he known where to look for the larders ; nor to 
beg, had he not known that he would have been greeted with the toma- 
hawk. While slowly marching through the village and ruminating upon 
some feasible plan of satisfying his wants, he saw light in a wigwam at 
some distance, which gave it the appearance of a trader's booth. Cau- 
tiously approaching, he satisfied himself of the truth of his conjecture. 
A white man was behind the counter, dealing out various articles to sev- 
eral squaws who stood around him. After some hesitation, Skyles en- 
tered the shpp and in bad English asked for rum. The trader regarded 
him carelessly, and without appearing surprised at either his dress or 
manner, replied that he had no rum in the house, but would go and 
bring him some, if he would wait a few moments. So saying, he leaped 
carelessly over the counter and left the shop. Skyles instantly followed 
him, and stopping him in the street briefly recounted the story, and, 
throwing himself upon his mercy, earnestly implored his assistance, 

The trader appeared much astonished, and visibly hesitated. Quickly 
recovering himself, however, he assured Skyles that he would use every 
effort to save him, although in doing so he himself would incur great 
risk. He then informed him that a band of Shawnees had appeared at 
the viHage on that very morning in keen pursuit of a prisoner, who 
(they said) had escaped a few days before, and whom they supposed to 
be still in the neighborhood, from the zigzag manner in which he 
had traveled. Many of the warriors of the town were at that moment 
assisting the Shawnees in hunting for him. He added that they might 
be expected to return in the morning, in which case, if discovered, his 
death would be certain. Skyles listened in great alarm to his account 
of the danger which surrounded him. If he left the village, he could 
scarcely expect to escape the numerous bands who were ranging the 
forests in search of him. If he remained where he was, the danger 
was still more imminent. Under these circumstances he earnestly re- 
quested the advice of the trader as to the best means of avoiding his 
enemies. The man replied that he must instantly leave the village, as 
keen eyes would be upon him in the morning, and his design would be 
penetrated. That he must conceal himself in a hazel thiclqet, which he 
pointed out to him, where in a short time he would join him with food, 
where they could arrange some feasible plan of escape. They then 
separated, the trader returning to his shop and Skyles repairing to 
the friendly thicket. 

Here within a few minutes he was joined by his friend, who informed 
him that he saw but one possible mode of escape. That it would be 



Wonderful Escape of Skyles. 593 

impossible for him either to remain where he was or to attempt to reach 
the white settlements through the woods, but he declared that if he 
was diligent and active, he might overtake a boat which had left them 
that morning for Lake Erie, and offered him his own skiff for that pur- 
pose. He added, that the boat was ladened with furs, and was com- 
manded by an English Captain, who would gladly receive him on board. 
Skyles eagerly embraced the offer, and they proceeded without a moment's 
delay to the river shore, where a handsome skiff with two oars lay in 
readiness for the water. Having taken an affectionate leave of the 
trader, Skyles put off from shore, and quickly gaining the current, 
rowed until daylight with the zeal of a man who knew the value of life 
and liberty. His greatest apprehension was, that his flight would be 
discovered in time to prevent his reaching the boat, and at every rust- 
ling of the bushes on the bank of the river, or at every cry of the owl 
which arose from the deep forest around him, the blood would rush 
back to his heart and he would fancy that his enemies were upon him. 

At length, between dawn and sunrise, he beheld the boat which he 
had pursued so eagerly only a few hundred yards in front, drifting 
slowly and calmly down the stream. He redoubled his exertions, and 
in half an hour was within hailing distance. He called aloud for them 
to halt, but no answer was returned. Upon coming alongside, he was 
unable to see a single man on board. Supposing the crew asleep, he 
mounted the side of the vessel, and saw the man at the helm enjoying 
a very comfortable nap, with the most enviable disregard to the dangers 
which might await him on the waters of Lake Erie, which were then in 
sight. The helmsman started up, rubbed his eyes, looked around him, 
and, after saluting his visitor, observed that "he had almost fallen 
asleep." Skyles agreed with him, and anxiously inquired for the Cap. 
tain. The latter soon made his appearance, in a woolen night cap, and 
the negotiation commenced. The Captain asked who he was, and what 
was the cause of so early a visit ? Skyles was fearful of committing 
himself by a premature disclosure of his real character, and replied that 
he was an adventurer who had been looking out for land upon the Au- 
glaize, but that he had been driven from the country by the apprehen- 
sion of outrage from the Indians, who had lately become unusually in- 
censed against the whites. The Captain coolly replied, that he had 
heard of one white man having been burned a few days before, at one 
of the Miami villages, and had understood that another had avoided 
the same fate only by running away into the woods, where, unless re- 
taken, it was supposed he would perish, as he had shown himself a mis- 
erable woodsman, and as numerous parties were in search of him. 

After a moment's hesitation, Skyles frankly acknowledged himself to 
38 



594 Our Western Border. 

be that fugitive, and threw himself at once upon their mercy. The 
English Captain heard him apparently without surprise, and granted his 
request without hesitation. All was done with the utmost sang froid. 
In a short time they arrived at Detroit, where, to his no small astonish- 
ment, he beheld Chick-a-tommo, Messhawa and their party, who had just 
arrived from Sandusky, after the sale of Johnston. Carefully avoiding 
them, he lay close in the house of a trader till the following day, when 
another large party arrived in pursuit of him, (having traced him down 
the river to Lake Erie,) and paraded the streets for several days, utter- 
ing loud complaints against those who had robbed them of their pris- 
oner. Poor Skyles entertained the most painful apprehensions for sev- 
eral days, but was at length relieved by their departure. As soon as 
possible he obtained a passage to Montreal, and returned in safety to 
the United States. 

Miss Fleming's Sad Plight — Rescued by King Crane. 

In noticing the fate of the companions of Johnston's captivity, we 
are naturally led to say something of the only female of the party. The 
reader cannot have forgotten that one of the Misses Fleming was 
killed on the Ohio, and that the other became a prisoner, and was as- 
signed to the Cherokees. Johnston had been much surprised at the 
levity of her conduct when first taken. Instead of appearing dejected 
at the dreadful death of her sister and the still more terrible fate of her 
friends, she never appeared more lively or better reconciled to her 
fate than while her captors lingered upon the banks of the Ohio. 
Upon the breaking up of the party, the Cherokees conducted their 
prisoner toward the Miami villages, and Johnston saw nothing more of 
her until after his own liberation. While he remained at the house of 
M. Duchouquet, the small party of Cherokees to whom she belonged 
suddenly made their appearance in the village, in a condition so tattered 
and dilapidated as to satisfy every one that all their booty had been 
wasted with their usual improvidence. 

Miss Fleming's appearance, particularly, had been entirely changed. 
All the levity which had astonished Johnston so much on the banks of 
the Ohio was completely gone. Her dress was tattered, her cheeks 
sunken, her eyes discolored by weeping, and her whole manner expres- 
sive of the most heartfelt wretchedness. Johnston addressed her with 
kindness, and inquired the cause of so great a change, but she only 
replied by wringing her hands and bursting into tears. Her master 
quickly summoned her away, and on the morning of her arrival she 
was compelled to leave the village and accompany them to Lower San- 



Rescued by King Crane. 595 

dusky. Within a few days Johnston, in company with his friend 
Duchouquet, followed them to that place, partly upon business and 
partly with the hope of effecting her liberation. He found the town 
thronged with Indians of various tribes, and there, for the first time, he 
learned that his friend Skyles had effected his escape. Upon inquiring 
for the Cherokees, he learned that they were encamped with their pris- 
oner within a quarter of a mile of the town, holding themselves aloof 
from the rest and evincing the most jealous watchfulness over their 
prisoner. Johnston applied to the traders of Sandusky for their good 
offices, and, as usual, the request was promptly complied with. They 
went out in a body to the Cherokee camp, accompanied by a white man 
named Whittaker, who had been taken from Virginia when a child, and 
had been completely naturalized among the Indians. 

This Whittaker was personally known to Miss Fleming, having often 
visited Pittsburgh, where her father kept a small tavern much frequented 
by Indians and traders. As soon as she beheld him, therefore, she ran 
up to the spot where he stood and, bursting into tears, implored him to 
save her from the cruel fate which she had no doubt awaited her. He 
engaged very zealously in her service, and finding that all the offers of 
the traders were rejected with determined obstinacy, he returned to 
Detroit and solicited the intercession of an old chief known among the 
whites by the name of "Old King Crane," assuring him (a lie which 
we can scarcely blame) that the woman was his sister. King Crane 
listened with gravity to the appeal of Whittaker, acknowledged the 
propriety of interfering in the case of so near a relative, and very 
calmly walked out to the Cherokee camp in order to try the efficacy of 
his own eloquence in behalf of the white squaw. He found her mas- 
ter, however, perfectly inexorable. The argument gradually waxed 
warm, till at length the Cherokees became enraged and told the old 
man that it was a disgrace to a chief like him to put himself upon a 
level with " white people," and that they looked upon him as no better 
than "dirt." 

At this insupportable insult, King Crane became exasperated in turn, 
and a very edifying scene ensued, in which each bespattered the other 
with a profusion of abuse for several minutes, until the Old King 
recollected himself sufficiently to draw off for the present and concert 
measures for obtaining redress. He returned to the village in a tower- 
ing passion and announced his determination to collect his young men 
and rescue the white squaw by force, and if the Cherokees dared to re- 
sist, he swore that he would take their scalps upon the spot. Whittaker 
applauded his doughty resolution, but warned him of the necessity of 
dispatch, as the Cherokees, alarmed at the idea of losing their prisoner, 



596 Our Western Border. 

might be tempted to put her to death without further delay. This ad- 
vice was acknowledged to be of weight, and before daylight on the 
following morning King Crane assembled his young men and advanced 
cautiously upon the Cherokee encampment. 

He found all but the miserable prisoner buried in sleep. She had 
been stripped naked, her body painted black, and in this condition had 
been bound to a stake, around which hickory poles had already been 
collected and every other disposition made for burning her alive at 
daylight. She was moaning in a low tone as her deliverers approached, 
and was so much exhausted as not to be aware of their approach until 
King Crane had actually cut the cords which bound her with his knife. 
He then ordered his young men to assist her in putting on her clothes, 
which they obeyed with the most stoical indifference. As soon as her 
toilet had been completed the King awakened her masters and informed 
them that the squaw was his! that if they submitted quietly, it was 
well ! — if not, his young men and himself were ready for them. The 
Cherokees, as may readily be imagined, protested loudly against such 
unrighteous proceedings, but what could words avail against tomahawks 
and superior numbers ? They finally expressed their willingness to re- 
sign the squaw, but hoped that King Crane would not be such a 
"beast" as to refuse them the ransom which he had offered them on 
the preceding day ! The. King replied coolly that he had the squaw 
now in his own hands, and would serve them right if he refused to pay 
a single broach, but that he disdained to receive anything at their 
hands without paying an equivalent, and would give them six hundred 
broaches. He then returned to Lower Sandusky, accompanied by the 
liberated prisoner. She was then painted as a squaw by Whit taker and 
sent off, under the care of two trusty Indians, to Pittsburgh, where she 
arrived in safety in the course of the following week. 

The remainder of Johnston's narrative is easily dispatched. He 
quickly embarked in a boat laden with fur to Detroit, and after re- 
maining there a few days, took passage to Montreal, and continued his 
journey thence to New York. There he had an interview with Presi- 
dent Washington, who, having been informed of his escape, sent for 
him, in order to make a number of inquiries as to the strength of the 
tribes through which he had passed, the force and condition of the 
British garrisons, and the degree of countenance which they had 
afforded to the hostile Indians. Having given all the information of 
which he was possessed, he was dismissed with great kindness, and in 
the course of the following week found himself in the bosom of his 
family. 

As the reader may probably take some interest in the fate of the 



Rescued by King Crane. 597 

Indians whom we have mentioned, we are enabled to add something 
upon that subject. Chick-a-tommo was killed at the decisive battle of 
the " Fallen Timber," where the united force of the northwestern tribes 
was defeated by General Wayne. Messhawa fought at the same place, 
but escaped, and afterwards became a devoted follower of the celebrated 
Tecumseh. He fought at Tippecanoe, Raisin, and finally at the River 
Thames, where it was supposed he was killed. King Crane lived to a 
great age, was present at St. Clair's defeat and at the "Fallen Timber," 
but finally became reconciled to the Americans and fought under 
Harrison at Thames. Whittaker, the white man, was in St. Clair's de- 
feat and afterwards with the Indians against Wayne. Tom Lewis 
fought against the Americans in all the northwestern battles until the 
final peace in 1 796, and then was one of the deputation who came on 
to Washington City, where Johnston saw him in '97. He afterwards 
rose to the rank of chief among the Shawnees, but having an incurable 
propensity to rum and thieving, he was degraded from his rank, and 
removed, with a band of his countrymen, to the country west of the 
Mississippi. 



598 Our Western Border. 



ADVENTURES OF WARD, CALVIN AND KENTON. 

In the month of April, 1792, a number of horses belonging to Cap- 
tain Luther Calvin, of Mason county, Ky., were stolen by the Indians; 
and, as usual, a strong party volunteered to go in pursuit of the enemy 
and recover the property. The party consisted of thirty-seven men, 
commanded by Captains Calvin and Kenton, and was composed chiefly 
of young farmers, most of whom had never yet met an enemy. They 
rendezvoused upon the Kentucky shore, immediately opposite Ripley, 
and crossing the river in a small ferry boat, pursued the trail for five or 
six miles with great energy. Here, however, a specimen of the usual 
caprice and uncertainty attending the motions of militia, was given. 
One of the party, whose voice had been loud and resolute while on the 
Kentucky shore, all at once managed to discover that the enterprise was 
rash, ill advised, and if prosecuted, would certainly prove disastrous. A 
keen debate ensued, in which young Spencer Calvin, then a lad of 
eighteen, openly accused the gentleman alluded to of cowardice, and 
even threatened to take the measure of his shoulders, with a ramrod, on 
the spot. By the prompt interference of Kenton and the elder Calvin, 
the young man's wrath was appeased for the time, and all those who 
preferred safety to honor, were invited instantly to return. The per- 
mission was promptly accepted, and no less than fifteen men, headed by 
the recreant already mentioned, turned their horses' heads and recrossed 
the river. The remainder, consisting chiefly of experienced warriors, 
continued the pursuit. 

The trail led them down on the Miami, and about noon, on the 
second day, they heard a bell in front, apparently from a horse grazing. 
Cautiously approaching it, they quickly beheld a solitary Indian, 
mounted on horseback, and leisurely advancing towards them. A few 
of their best marksmen fired upon him and brought him to the ground. 
After a short consultation, it was then determined to follow his back 
trail, and ascertain whether there were more in the neighborhood. A 
small, active, resolute woodsman, named Mclntyre, accompanied by, 
three others, was pushed on in advance, in order to give them early 
notice of the enemy's appearance, while the main body followed at a 
more leisurely pace. Within an hour Mclntyre returned, and reported 
chat they were then within a short distance of a large party of Indians, 
supposed to be greatly superior to their own; that they were en- 
camped in a bottom upon the borders of a creek, and were amusing 



Adventures of Ward, Calvin and Kenton. 599 

themselves, apparently awaiting the arrival of the Indian whom they 
had just killed, as they would occasionally halloo loudly, and then 
laugh immoderately, supposing, probably, that their comrade had lost 
his way. 

This intelligence fell like a shower-bath upon the spirits of the party, 
who, thinking it more prudent to put a greater interval between them- 
selves and the enemy, set spur to their horses and galloped back in the 
direction from which they had come. Such was the panic, that one of 
the footmen, a huge, hulking fellow, six feet high, in his zeal for his own 
safety, sprang up behind Captain Calvin, (who was then mounted upon 
Captain Ward's horse, the Captain having dismounted in order to 
accommodate him,) and nothing short of a threat to blow his brains 
out, could induce him to dismount. In this orderly manner they 
scampered through the woods for several miles, when, in obedience to 
the orders of Kenton and Calvin, they halted, and prepared for resist- 
ance in case (as was probable) the enemy had discovered them, and 
were engaged in the purcuit. Kenton and Calvin were engaged apart 
in earnest consultation. It was proposed that a number of saplings 
should be cut down and a temporary breastwork erected, and while the 
propriety of these measures were under discussion, the men were left to 
themselves. 

Captain Ward, as we have already observed, was then very young, 
and perfectly raw. He had been in the habit of looking up to one man 
as a perfect Hector, having always heard him represented in his own 
neighborhood as a man of undoubted courage, and a perfect Anthro- 
pophagus among the Indians. When they halted, therefore, he naturally 
looked around for his friend, hoping to read safety, courage and assur- 
ance of success in that countenance, usually so ruddy and confident. 
But, alas ! the gallant warrior was wofully chop-fallen. There had 
generally been a ruddy tinge upon the tip of his nose, which some 
ascribed to the effervescence of a fiery valor, while others, more mali- 
ciously inclined, attributed it to fumes of brandy. Even this burning 
beacon had been quenched, and had assumed a livid, ashy hue, still 
deeper, if possible, than that of his lips. Captain Ward, thinking that 
the danger must be appalling which could dampen the ardor of a man 
like this Bombastes, became grievously frightened himself, and the con- 
tagion seemed spreading rapidly, when Kenton and Calvin rejoined 
them, and speaking in a cheerful, confident tone, completely reanimated 
their spirits. 

Finding themselves not pursued by the enemy, as they had expected, 
it was determined that they should remain in their present position 
until night, when a rapid attack was to be made, in two divisions, upon 



600 Our Western Border. 

the Indian camp, under the impression that the darkness of the night, 
and the surprise of the enemy, might give them an advantage which 
they could scarcely hope for in daylight. Accordingly, everything re- 
maining quiet, at dusk they again mounted and advanced rapidly, but 
in profound silence, upon the Indian camp. It was ascertained that the 
horses which the enemy had stolen were grazing in a rich bottom below 
their camp. As they were advancing to the attack, therefore, Calvin 
detached his son, with several halters which he had borrowed from the 
men, to regain their own horses, and be prepared to carry them off in 
case the enemy should overpower them. The attack was then made in 
two divisions. Calvin conducted the upper and Kenton the lower 
party. The wood was thick, but the moon shone out clearly, and 
enabled them to distinguish objects with sufficient precision. Calvin's 
party came first in contact with the enemy. 

They had advanced within thirty yards of a large fire in front of a 
number of tents, without having seen a single Indian, when a dog, 
which had been watching them for several minutes, sprang forward to 
meet them, baying loudly. Presently an Indian appeared, approaching 
cautiously towards them, and occasionally speaking to the dog in the 
Indian tongue. This sight was too tempting to be borne, and Calvin 
heard the click of a dozen rifles in rapid succession, as his party cocked 
them in order to fire. The Indian was too close to permit him to 
speak, but turning to his men he earnestly waved his hand as a warning 
to be quiet. Then cautiously raising his own rifle, he fired with a steady 
aim just as the Indian had reached the fire and stood fairly exposed to 
its light. The report of the rifle broke the stillness of the night, and 
their ears were soon deafened by the yells of the enemy. The Indian 
at whom Calvin had fired fell forward into the burning pile of fagots, 
and by his struggling to extricate himself, scattered the brands so much 
as almost to extinguish the light. Several dusky forms glanced rapidly 
before them for a moment, which drew a volley from his men, but with 
what effect could not be ascertained. Calvin, having discharged his 
piece, turned so rapidly as to strike the end of his ramrod against a tree 
behind him, and drive it into its sheath with such violence, that he was 
unable to extricate it for several minutes, and finally fractured two of 
his teeth in the effort. 

A heavy fire now commenced from the Indian camp, which was re- 
turned with equal spirit by the whites, but without much effect on 
either side. Trees were barked very plentifully, dogs bayed, the In- 
dians yelled, the whites shouted, the squaws screamed, and a prodigious 
uproar was maintained for about fifteen minutes, when it was reported 
to Calvin that Kenton's party had been overpowered and was in full 



Adventures of Ward, Calvin and Kenton. 601 

retreat. It was not necessary to give orders for a similar movement. 
No sooner had the intelligence been received than the Kentuckians of 
the upper division broke their ranks and every man attempted to save 
himself as he best could. They soon overtook the lower division, and 
a hot scramble took place for horses. One called upon another to wait 
for him until he could catch his horse, which had broken his bridle, but 
no attention was paid to the request. Some fled upon their own horses, 
others mounted those of their friends. "First come, first served," 
seemed to be the order of the night, and a sad confusion of property 
took place, in consequence of which, to their great terror, a few were 
compelled to return on foot. The flight was originally caused by the 
panic of one individual. As the lower division moved up to the attack 
most of the men appeared to advance with alacrity. 

Captain Ward, however, happened to be stationed next to Mclntyre, 
who was a practiced woodsman and peculiarly expert marksman. Here- 
tofore he had always been foremost in every danger, and had become 
celebrated for the address, activity and boldness with which he had ac- 
quitted himself. As they were ascending the gentle acclivity upon 
which the Indian camp stood, however, he appeared much dejected, and 
spoke despondingly of their enterprise. He declared that it had been 
revealed to him in a dream, on the preceding night, that their efforts 
would be vain, and that he himself was destined to perish. That he 
was determined to fight, as long as any man of the party stood his 
ground, but if the whites were wise, they would instantly abandon the 
attempt upon the enemy, and recross the Ohio as rapidly as possible. 
These observations made but little impression upon Ward, but seemed 
to take deep root in the mind of the gentleman whose pale face had 
alarmed the company at the breastwork. The action quickly com- 
menced, and at the first fire from the Indians, Barre, a young Ken- 

tuckian, was shot by 's side. This circumstance completed the 

overthrow of his courage, which had declined visibly since the first 
encounter in the morning, and elevating his voice to its shrillest i.otes, 
he shouted aloud, "Boys! it wont do for us to be here — Barre is killed 
and the Indians are crossing the creek ! " 

Bonaparte has said, that there is a critical period in every battle, when 
the bravest men will eagerly seize an excuse to run away. The remark 
is doubly true in regard to militia. No sooner had this speech been 
uttered by one who had never yet been charged with cowardice, than 
the rout instantly took place, and all order was disregarded. Fortu- 
nately, the enemy were equally frightened, and probably would have 
fled themselves, had the whites given them time. No pursuit took place 
for several hours, nor did they then pursue the trail of the main body 



602 



Our Western Border. 



of fugitives. But it unfortunately happened that Mclntyre, instead of 
accompanying the rest, turned off from the main route, and returned 
to the breastwork, where some flour and venison had been left. The 
Indians quickly became aware of the circumstance, and following with 
rapidity, overtook, tomahawked and scalped him, while engaged in pre- 
paring breakfast on the following morning. Thus was his dream veri- 
fied. The prediction in this case, as in many others, probably pro- 
duced its own accomplishment by confounding his mind and depriving 
him of his ordinary alertness and intelligence. He certainly provoked 
his fate by his own extraordinary rashness. 



Ward Finds a Lost Brother — Ward, Baker and Kenton. 

It is somewhat remarkable, that a brother of Captain Ward's was in 
the Indian camp at the moment when it was attacked. He had been 
taken by the Indians in 1758, being at that time only three years old, 
had been adopted as a member of the Shawnee tribe and had married 
an Indian woman, by whom he had several children, all of whom, to- 
gether with their mother, were then in camp. Captain Ward has in- 
formed the writer of this narrative, that a few seconds before the firing 
began, while he stood within rifle shot of the encampment, an Indian 
girl, apparently fifteen years of age, attracted his attention. She stood 
for an instant in an attitude of alarm in front of one of the tents, and 
gazing intently upon the spot where he stood. Not immediately per- 
ceiving that it was a female, he raised his gun, and was upon the point 
of firing, when her open bosom announced her sex, and her peculiarly 
light complexion caused him to doubt for a moment whether she could 
be an Indian by birth. He afterwards ascertained that she was his 
brother's child. 

It appears still more remarkable, that exactly one year afterwards, 
John Ward, the adopted Indian, should have been opposed to another 
one of his brothers, Captain James Ward, of Mason, in a night skir- 
mish somewhat resembling that which we have just detailed. Captain 
James Ward, together with Kenton, Baker and about thirty others, 
while engaged in pursuit of some stolen horses, fell upon a fresh trail 
of Indians, that crossed the road which they were then pursuing. In- 
stantly abandoning their former object, they followed the fresh trail 
with great eagerness, and a short time after dark arrived at an encamp- 
ment. Having carefully reconnoitered it, they determined to remain 
quiet until daylight, and then fall upon the enemy, as before, in two di- 
visions, one to be commanded by Kenton and the other by Baker. 



Ward Finds a Lost Brother. 603 

Everything remained quiet until four o'clock in the morning, when 
Baker moved at the head of his party, in order to take the appointed 
position, (which was very advantageous, and in conjunction with Ken- 
ton's, completely surrounded the enemy,) while Kenton remained sta- 
tionary, awaiting the signal of attack. By some mistake, Baker moved 
in a false direction, and, to the surprise of both parties, instead of en- 
closing the Indian camp, he fell directly upon it. A heavy firing and 
the usual yelling quickly announced the fact to Kenton, who moved 
hastily up to the assistance of his friends. It was still perfectly dark, 
and the firing was of course at random. 

Baker, in whose fiery character courage predominated over every- 
thing else, lost all patience at the restraint under which they lay, and 
urged strenuously that they should rush upon the enemy and decide the 
affair at once with the tomahawk ; but Kenton, whom repeated misfor- 
tunes had rendered extremely cautious, opposed it so vehemently that 
it was not done. One of their men had fallen, and they could hear 
one of the enemy, apparently not more than thirty yards from them, 
groan deeply, and occasionally converse with his companions in the In- 
dian tongue. The wounded man was the unfortunate John Ward, 
whose hard fate it was to fight against the whites in a battle in which 
his own father was killed ; to encounter two of his brothers in the field, 
and, finally, to fall mortally wounded in a night skirmish, when his 
brother was opposed to him and was within hearing of his groans. His 
father perished in the long battle at the " Point," as it was called, near 
the mouth of the Kanawha. The whole force of the Shawnees was 
assembled at that point, and John Ward was then nineteen years of 
age, so that there can be but little doubt of his having been present. 



604 



Our Western Border. 



A DESPERATE ATTACK ON CAPT. WM. HUBBELL'S BOAT. 

In the year 1791, while the Indians were yet troublesome, especially 
on the banks of the Ohio, Captain William Hubbell, who had previously 
emigrated to Kentucky from the State of Vermont, and who, after hav- 
ing fixed his family in the neighborhood of Frankfort, then a frontier 
settlement, had been compelled to go to the eastward on business, was 
a second time on his way to that country. On one of the tributary 
streams of the Monongahela he procured a flat-bottomed boat and 
embarked, in company with Mr. Daniel Light and Mr. William Plascut 
and his family, consisting of a wife and eight children, destined for 
Limestone, Kentucky. On their progress down the Ohio river, and 
soon after passing Pittsburgh, they saw evident traces of Indians along 
the banks, and there is every reason to believe that a boat which they 
overtook, and which, through carelessness, was suffered to run aground 
on an island, became a prey to these merciless savages. Though Cap- 
tain Hubbell and his party stopped some time for it in a lower part of 
the river, it did not arrive, and has never, to their knowledge, been 
heard of since. 

Before they reached the mouth of the Great Kanawha, they had, by 
several successive additions, increased their number to twenty, consist- 
ing of nine men, three women and eight children. The men, besides 
those mentioned above, were one John Stoner, an Irishman and a Dutch- 
man, whose names are not recollected, Messrs. Ray and Tucker, and a 
Mr. Kilpatrick, whose two daughters also were of the party. Informa- 
tion received at Gallipolis confirmed the expectation, which appear- 
ances previously raised, of a serious conflict with a large body of In- 
dians; and as Captain Hubbell had been regularly appointed com- 
mander of the boat, every possible preparation was made for a formid- 
able and successful resistance of the anticipated attack. The nine men 
were divided into three watches for the night, which were alternately 
to continue awake, and be on the lookout for two hours at a time. 
The arms on board, which consisted principally of old muskets, much 
out of order, were collected, loaded and put in the best possible con- 
dition for service. 

About sunset on that day, the 23d of March, 1791, our party over- 
took a fleet of six boats descending the river in company, and intended 
to have continued with them, but as their passengers seemed to be more 
disposed to dancing than fighting, and as, soon after dark, notwithstand- 
ing the remonstrances of Captain Hubbell, they commenced fiddling 



Desperate Attack on Capt. Wm. Hubbell's Boat. 605 

and dancing instead of preparing their arms, and taking the necessary 
rest preparatory to battle, it was wisely considered more hazardous to 
be in such company than to be alone. It was, therefore, determined to 
proceed rapidly forward by the aid of the oars, and to leave those 
thoughtless fellow travelers behind. One of the boats, however, be- 
longing to the fleet, commanded by a Captain Greathouse, adopted the 
same plan, and for a while kept up with Captain Hubbell, but all its 
crew at length falling asleep, that boat also ceased to be propelled by 
the oars, and Captain Hubbell and his party proceeded steadily forward 
alone. Early in the night a canoe was dimly seen floating down the 
river, in which were probably Indians reconnoitering, and other evident 
indications were observed of the neighborhood and hostile intentions of 
a formidable party of savages. 

It was now agreed that should the attack, as was probable, be deferred 
till morning, every man should be up before the dawn, in order to make 
as great a show as possible of numbers and of strength ; and that, when- 
ever the action should take place, the women and children should lie 
down on the cabin floor, and be protected as well as they could by the 
trunks and other baggage, which might be placed around them. In this 
perilous situation they continued during the night, and the Captain, 
who had not slept more than one hour since he left Pittsburgh, was too 
deeply impressed with the imminent danger which surrounded him to 
obtain any rest at that time. 

Just as daylight began to appear in the East, and before the men were 
up and at their posts agreeably to arrangement, a voice at some distance 
below them, in a plaintive tone, repeatedly solicited them to come on 
shore, as there were some white people who wished to obtain a passage 
in their boat. This the Captain very naturally and correctly concluded 
to be an Indian artifice, and its only effect was to rouse the men, and 
place every one on his guard. The voice of entreaty was soon changed 
into the language of indignation and insult, and the sound of distant 
paddles announced the approach of the savage foe. At length three 
Indian canoes were seen through the mist of the morning rapidly ad- 
vancing. With the utmost coolness the Captain and his comrades pre- 
pared to receive them. The chairs, tables and other incumbrances 
were thrown into the river, in order to clear the deck for action. 
Every man took his position, and was ordered not to fire till the sav- 
ages had approached so near that (to use the words of Captain Hub- 
bell,) "the flash from the guns might singe their eye-brows;" and a 
special caution was given, that the men should fire successively, so that 
there might be no interval. On the arrival of the canoes, they were 
found to contain about twenty-five or thirty Indians each. 



606 Our Western Border. 

As soon as they had approached within the reach of musket shot, a 
general fire was given from one of them, which wounded Mr. Tucker 
through the hip so severely that his leg hung only by the flesh, and shot 
Mr. Light just below his ribs. The three canoes placed themselves at 
the bow, stern and on the right side of the boat, so that they had an 
opportunity of raking in every direction. The fire now commenced 
from the boat, and had a powerful effect in checking the confidence 
and fury of the Indians. The Captain, after firing his own gun, took 
up that of one of the wounded men, raised it to his shoulder, and was 
about to discharge it, when a ball came and took away the lock ; he 
coolly turned round, seized a brand of fire from the kettle which 
served for a caboose, and applying it to the pan, discharged the piece 
with effect. A very regular and constant fire was now kept up on both 
sides. The Captain was just in the act of raising his gun a third time, 
when a ball passed through his right arm, and for a moment disabled 
him. Scarcely had he recovered from the shock, and reacquired the 
use of his hand, which had been suddenly drawn up by the wound, 
when he observed the Indians in one of the canoes just about to board 
the boat in its bow, where the horses were placed belonging to the 
party. So near had they approached, that some of them had actually 
seized with their hands the side of the boat. 

Severely wounded as he was, he caught up a pair of horsemen's 
pistols and rushed forward to repel the attempt at boarding. On his 
approach the Indians fell back, and he discharged a pistol with effect at 
the foremost man. After firing the second pistol he found himself 
without arms, and was compelled to retreat ; but stepping back upon a 
pile of small wood which had been prepared for burning in the kettle, 
the thought struck him that it might be made use of in repelling the 
foe, and he continued for some time to strike them with it so forcibly 
and actively, that they were unable to enter the boat, and at length he 
wounded one of them so severely that with a yell they suddenly gave 
way. All the canoes then discontinued the contest, and directed their 
course to Captain Greathouse's boat, which was in sight. Here a strik- 
ing contrast was exhibited to the firmness and intrepidity which had 
been displayed. Instead of resisting the attack, the people on board of 
this boat retired to the cabin in dismay. The Indians entered it with- 
out opposition, and rowed it to the shore, where they killed the Cap- 
tain and a lad of about fourteen years of age. The women they placed 
in the centre of their canoes, and, manning them with fresh hands, again 
pursued Captain Hubbell and party. A melancholy alternative now 
presented itself to these brave but almost desponding men, either to fall 
a prey to the savages themselves, or to run the risk of shooting the 



Second Attack and Obstinate Resistance. 607 

women, who had been placed in the canoes in the hope of deriving pro- 
tection from their presence. But "self-preservation is the first law of 
nature," and the Captain very justly remarked, there would not be 
much humanity in preserving their lives at such a sacrifice, merely that 
they might become victims of savage cruelty at some subsequent period. 

Second Attack and Obstinate Resistance — A Brave Boy. 

There were now but four men left on board of Captain Hubbell's 
boat capable of defending it, and the Captain himself was severely 
wounded in two places. The second attack, however, was resisted with 
almost incredible firmness and vigor. Whenever the Indians would rise 
to fire, their opponents would commonly give them the first shot, which, 
in almost every instance, would prove fatal. Notwithstanding the dis- 
parity of numbers, and the exhausted condition of the defenders of the 
boat, the Indians at length appeared to despair of success, and the 
canoes successively retired to the shore. Just as the last one was de- 
parting, Captain Hubbell called to the Indian who was standing in the 
stern, and on his turning round discharged his piece at him. When the 
smoke, which for a moment obstructed the vision, was dissipated, he 
was seen lying on his back, and appeared to be severely, perhaps mor- 
tally, wounded. 

Unfortunately the boat now drifted near to the shore, where the In- 
dians were collected, and a large concourse, probably between four and 
five hundred, were soon rushing down on the bank. Ray and Plascut, 
the only men remaining unhurt, were placed at the oars, and, as the 
boat was not more than twenty yards from shore, it was deemed pru- 
dent for all to lie down in as safe a position as possible, and attempt to 
push forward with the utmost practicable rapidity. While they con- 
tinued in this situation, nine balls were shot into one oar and ten in the 
other, without wounding the rowers, who were hidden from view, and 
protected by the sides of the boat and the blankets in its stern. Dur- 
ing this dreadful exposure to the fire of the savages, which continued 
about twenty minutes, Mr. Kilpatrick observed a particular Indian, 
whom he thought a favorable mark for his rifle, and, notwithstanding 
the solemn warning of Captain Hubbell, rose to shoot him. He im- 
mediately received a ball in his mouth, which passed out at the back 
part of his head, and was almost at the same moment shot through the 
heart. He fell among the horses that about the same time were killed, 
and presented, to his afflicted daughters and fellow travelers, who were 
witnesses of the awful occurrence, a spectacle of horror which we need 
not further attempt to describe. 



60S Our Western Border. 

The boat was now providentially and suddenly carried out into the 
middle of the stream, and taken by the current beyond the reach of 
the enemy's balls. Our little band, reduced as they were in numbers, 
wounded, afflicted and almost exhausted by fatigue, were still unsub- 
dued in spirit, and being assembled in all their strength, men, women 
and children, with an appearance of triumph gave three hearty cheers, 
calling to the Indians to come on again if they were fond of the sport. 

Thus ended this awful conflict, in which out of nine men two only es- 
caped unhurt. Tucker and Kilpatrick were killed on the spot, Stoner 
was mortally wounded and died on his arrival at Limestone, and all the 
rest, excepting Ray and Plascut, were severely wounded. The women 
and children were all uninjured, excepting a little son of Mr. Plascut, 
who, after the battle was over, came to the Captain, and, with great 
coolness, requested him to take a ball out of his head. On examination 
it appeared that a bullet which had passed through the side of the boat, 
had penetrated the forehead of this little hero, and remained under the 
skin. The Captain took it out, and the youth, observing, " that is not 
a//,' 7 raised his arm, and exhibited a piece of bone at the point of his 
elbow, which had been shot off, and hung only by the skin. His 
mother exclaimed, " Why did you not tell me of this? " "Because," 
he coolly replied, " the Captain directed us to be silent during the ac- 
tion, and I thought you would be likely to make a noise if I told you." 

The boat made the best of its way down the river, and the object 
was to reach Limestone that night. The Captain's arm had bled pro- 
fusely, and he was compelled to close the sleeve of his coat, in order 
to retain the blood and stop its effusion. In this situation, tormented 
by excruciating pain, and faint through loss of blood, he was under the 
necessity of steering the boat with the left arm till about ten o'clock 
that night, when he was relieved by Mr. William Brooks, who resided 
on the bank of the river, and who was induced by the calls of the 
suffering party to come out to their assistance. By his aid and that of 
some other persons who were in the same manner brought to their re- 
lief, they were enabled to reach Limestone about twelve o'clock that 
night. 

Immediately on the arrival of Mr. Brooks, Captain Hubbell, relieved 
from labor and responsibility, sunk under the weight of pain and 
fatigue, and became for a while totally insensible. When the boat 
reached Limestone, he found himself unable to walk, and was obliged 
to be carried up to the tavern. Here he had his wound dressed, and 
continued for several days, until he acquired sufficient strength to pro- 
ceed homewards. 

On the arrival of the party at Limestone, they found a considerable 



A Brave Boy. 609 

force of armed men about to march against the same Indians, from 
whose attack they had so severely suffered. They now learned that, the 
Sunday preceding, the same party of savages had cut off a detach 
ment of men ascending the Ohio from Fort Washington, at the mouth 
of Licking river, and had killed with their tomahawks, without firing a 
gun, twenty-one out of twenty-two men, of which the detachment con- 
sisted. 

Crowds of people, as might be expected, came to view the boat 
which had been the scene of so much heroism and such horrid carnage, 
and to visit the resolute little band by whom it had been so gallantly 
and perseveringly defended. On examination it was found that the 
sides of the boat were literally filled with bullets and with bullet holes. 
There was scarcely a space of two feet square in the part above the 
water which had not either a ball remaining in it, or a hole through 
which a ball had passed. Some persons, who had the curiosity to count 
the number of holes in the blankets which were hung up as curtains in 
the stern of the boat, affirmed that in the space of five feet square there 
were one hundred and twenty-two. Four horses out of five were killed, 
and the escape of the fifth amidst such a shower of balls appears almost 
miraculous. 

The day after the arrival of Captain Hubbell and his companions 
the five remaining boats, which they had passed on the night preceding 
the battle, reached Limestone. Those on board remarked that during 
the action they distinctly saw the flashes, but could not hear the reports 
of the guns. The Indians, it appears, had met with too formidable a 
resistance from a single boat to attack a fleet, and suffered them to pass 
unmolested ; and since that time, it is believed, no boat has been 
assailed by Indians on the Ohio. 

The force which marched out to disperse this formidable body of 
savages, discovered several Indians dead on the shore near the scene of 
action. They also found the bodies of Captain Greathouse and several 
others, men, women and children, who had been on board of his boat. 
Most of them appeared to have been whipped to death, as they were 
found stripped, tied to trees, and marked with the appearance of lashes, 
and large rods, which seemed to have been worn with use, were observed 
lying near them. 



39 



610 Our Western Border, 



A SAVAGE BOAT ATTACK AND A TERRIBLE COMBAT. 

In May, 1788, a flatboat loaded with kettles, intended for the manu 
facture of salt at Bullitt's Lick, Ky., left Louisville with thirteen 
persons, twelve armed men and one woman, on board. The boat and 
cargo were owned by Henry Crist and Solomon Spears ; and the com- 
pany consisted of Crist, Spears, Christian Crepps, Thomas Floyd, 
Joseph Boyce, Evans Moore, an Irishman named Fossett, and five 
others, and a woman, whose name is not preserved. The intention of 
the party was to descend the Ohio, which was then very high, to the 
mouth of Salt river, not far below, and then ascend the latter river, the 
current of which was entirely deadened by back water from the Ohio, 
to a place near the licks, called Mud Garrison, which was a temporary 
fortification, constructed of two rows of slight stockades, and the space 
between filled with mud and gravel from the bank of the river hard by. 
The works inclosed a space of about half an acre, and stood about mid- 
way between Bullitt's Lick and the falls of Salt river, where Shepherds- 
ville, Ky., now stands. These works were then occupied by the families 
of the salt makers, and those who hunted to supply them with food 
and acted also as an advanced guard to give notice of the approach of 
any considerable body of men. 

On the 25 th of May the boat entered Salt river, and the hands com- 
menced working her up with sweep-oars. There was no current one 
way or the other. While on the Ohio, the great breadth of the river 
secured them against any sudden attack, but when they came into Salt 
river they were within reach of the Indian rifle from either shore. It 
became necessary, therefore, to send out scouts to apprise them of any 
danger ahead. In the evening of the first day, Crist and Floyd went 
ashore to reconnoitre the bank ahead of the boat. Late in the evening 
they discovered a fresh trail, but for want of light they could not make 
out the number of Indians. They remained out all night, but made no 
further discoveries. In the morning, as they were returning down the 
river towards the boat, they heard a number of guns, which they believed 
to be Indians killing game for breakfast. They hastened back to the 
boat and communicated what they had heard and seen. 

They pulled on up the river until eight o'clock, and arrived at a 
point eight miles below the mouth of the Rolling Fork, where they 
drew into shore on the north side of the river, intending to land and 
cook their breakfast. As they drew into shore, they heard the gob- 
bling of turkeys (as they supposed) on the bank where they were going 



A Savage Boat Attack and a Terrible Combat. 611 

to land, and as the boat touched, Fossett and another sprang ashore, 
with their guns in their hands, to shoot turkeys. They were cautioned 
of their danger, but disregarding the admonition, hastily ascended the 
bank. Their companions in the boat had barely lost sight of them 
when they heard a volley of rifles discharged all at once on the bank 
immediately above, succeeded by a yell of savages so terrific as to in- 
duce a belief that the woods were filled with Indians. This attack, so 
sudden and violent, took the boat's company by surprise; and they had 
barely time to seize their rifles and place themselves in a posture of de- 
fence when Fossett and his companion came dashing down the bank, 
hotly pursued by a large body of Indians. 

Crist stood in the bow of the boat, with his rifle in his hand. At the 
first sight of the enemy he brought his gun to his face, but instantly 
perceived that the object of his aim was a white man, and a sudden 
thought flashed across his mind that the enemy was a company of sur- 
veyors that he knew to be then in the woods, and that the attack was 
made in sport, &c, let his gun down, and at the same time his white 
foeman sank out of sight behind the bank. But the firing had com- 
menced in good earnest on both sides. Crist again brought his rifle to 
his face, and as he did so the white man's head was rising over the 
bank with his gun also presented. Crist got the fire on him, and at 
the crack of his rifle the white man fell forward dead. Fossett's hunt- 
ing companion plunged into the water and got in safely at the bow of 
the boat ; but Fossett's arm was broken by the first fire on the hill. 
The boat, owing to the high water, did not touch the land, and he got 
into the river further towards the stern and swam round, with his gun in 
his left hand, and was taken safely into the stern. 

So intent were the Indians on the pursuit of their prey that many of 
them ran to the water's edge, struck and shot at Fossett and- his com- 
panion while getting into the boat, and some even seized the boat and 
attempted to draw it nearer the shore. In this attempt many of the 
Indians perished ; some were shot dead as they approached the boat ; 
others were killed in the river, and it required the most stubborn re- 
sistance and determined valor to keep them from carrying the boat by 
assault. Repulsed in their efforts to board the boat, the savages with- 
drew higher up the bank, and, taking their stations behind trees, com- 
menced a regular and galling fire, which was returned with the spirit of 
brave men rendered desperate by the certain knowledge that no quarter 
would be given, and that it was an issue of victory or death to every 
soul on board. 

The boat had a log chain for a cable, and when she was first brought 
ashore the chain was thrown around a small tree that stood on the 



612 Our Western Border. 

water's edge, and the hook run through one of the links. This had 
been done before the first fire was made upon Fossett on shore. The 
kettles in the boat had been ranked up along the sides, leaving an open 
gangway through the middle of the boat from bow to stern. Unfor- 
tunately, the bow lay to shore, so that the guns of the Indians raked 
the whole length of the gangway, and their fire was constant and 
destructive. Spears, and several others of the brave men, had already 
fallen, some killed and others mortally wounded. From the com- 
mencement of the battle many efforts had been made to disengage the 
boat from the shore, all of which had failed. The hope was that if 
they could once loose the cable, the boat would drift out of the reach 
of the enemy's guns, but any attempt to do this by hand would expose 
the person to certain destruction. 

Fossett's right arm was broken, and he could no longer handle his 
rifle. He got a pole and, placing himself low down in the bow of the 
boat, commenced punching at the hook in the chain, but the point of 
the hook was turned from him, and all his efforts seemed only to drive 
it further into the link. He at length discovered where a small limb 
had been cut from the pole and left a knot about an inch long; this 
knot, after a number of efforts, he placed against the point of the 
hook, and, jerking the pole suddenly towards him, threw the hook out 
of the link. The chain fell and the boat drifted slowly out from the 
bank, and by means of an oar worked overhead, was brought into 
the middle of the river with her side to the shore, which protected 
them from the fire of the Indians. The battle had now lasted upwards 
of an hour. The odds against the crew were at least ten to one. The 
fire had been very destructive on both sides, and a great many Indians 
had been killed ; but if the boat had remained much longer at the 
shore, it was manifest that there would have been none of the crew left 
to tell the tale of their disaster. 

The survivors had now time to look round upon the havoc that had 
been made of their little band. Five of their companions lay dead in 
the gangway ; Spears, Floyd, Fossett and Boyce were wounded ; 
Crepps, Crist and Moore remained unhurt. It was evident that Spears' 
wound was mortal, and that he could survive but a few moments. He 
urged the survivors to run the boat to the opposite side of the river 
and save themselves by immediate flight, and leave him to his fate. 
Crepps and Crist positively refused. 

But the boat was gradually nearing the southern shore of the river. 
At this time the Indians, to the number of forty or fifty, were seen 
crossing the river above, at a few hundred yards' distance, some on 
logs and some swimming and carrying their rifles over their heads. The 



A Very Obstinate Defence and a Barren Victory. 613 

escape of the boat was now hopeless, as there was a large body of In- 
dians on each side of the river. If the boat had been carried im- 
mediately to the opposite side of the river as soon as her cable was 
loosed, the survivors might have escaped ; but to such minds and hearts 
the idea of leaving their dying friends to the mercy of the Indian toma- 
hawk was insupportable. The boat at length touched the southern 
shore; a hasty preparation was made to bury the wounded in the 
woods ; Floyd, Fossett and Boyce got to land and sought concealment 
in the thickets. Crepps and Crist turned to their suffering friend, 
Spears, but death had kindly stepped in and cut short the savage tri- 
umph. The woman now remained. They offered to assist her to 
shore, that she might take her chance of escape in the woods ; but the 
danger of her position, and the scenes of blood and death around her, 
had overpowered her senses, and no entreaty or remonstrance could 
prevail with her to move. She sat with her face buried in her hands, 
and no effort could make her sensible that there was any hope of 
escape. 

A Very Obstinate Defence and a Barren Victory. 

The Indians had gained the south side of the river, and were yelling 
like bloodhounds as they ran down towards the boat, which they now 
looked upon as their certain prey. Crepps and Crist seized a rifle 
apiece and ascended the river bank ; at the top of the hill they met the 
savages, and charged them with a shout. Crepps fired upon them, but 
Crist, in his haste, had taken up Fossett's gun, which had got wet as he 
swam with it to the boat on the opposite side — it missed fire. At this 
time Moore passed them and escaped. The Indians, when charged by 
Crepps and Crist, fell back into a ravine that put into the river im- 
mediately above them. Crist and Crepps again commenced their flight. 
The Indians rallied and rose from the ravine, and fired a volley at them 
as they fled. Crepps received a ball in his left side ; a bullet struck 
Crist's heel and completely crushed the bones of his foot. They parted 
and met no more. The Indians, intent on plunder, did not pursue 
them, but rushed into the boat. Crist heard one long, agonizing 
shriek from the unfortunate woman, and the wild shouts of the savages, 
as they possessed themselves of the spoils of a costly but barren 
victory. 

Crepps, in the course of the next day, arrived in the neighborhood 
of Long Lick, and, being unable to travel farther, laid down in the 
woods to die. Moore alone escaped unhurt, and brought in the tidings 
of the defeat of the boat. The country was at once roused. Crepps 



614 Our Western Border. 

was found and brought in, but died about the time he reached home. 
Crist described Crepps as a tall, fair-haired, handsome man; kind, brave 
and enterprising, and possessed of all those high and striking qualities 
that gave the heroic stamp to that hardy race of pioneers among whom 
he had lived and died. He had been the lion of the fight. By ex- 
posing himself to the most imminent peril, he inspirited his companions 
with his own contempt of danger. He and Crist had stood over 
Fossett, and kept the Indians treed while he disengaged the cable ; and 
his coolness during the long, bloody struggle of the day had won the 
admiration of Crist himself — than whom a more dauntless man had 
never contended with mortal foe. Crepps left a young wife and one 
son, then an infant. His wife was enceinte at the time of his death — 
the posthumous child was a daughter, and is the wife of the Hon. 
Charles A. WicklifTe, of Kentucky. The son died shortly after he 
arrived at man's estate. 

Crist was so disabled by the wound that he could not walk. The 
bones of his heel were crushed. He crept into a thicket and laid down. 
His wound bled profusely. He could not remain there long. His 
feet were now of no use to him. He bound his moccasins on his knees, 
and commenced his journey. Piece by piece, his hat, hunting shirt and 
vest were consumed to shield his hands against the rugged rocks which 
lay in his way. He crawled on all day up the river, and at night 
crossed over to the north side upon a log that he rolled down the bank. 
He concealed himself in a thicket and tried to sleep — but pain and ex- 
haustion and loss of blood had driven sleep from his eyes. His foot 
and leg were much swollen and inflamed. Guided by the stars, he crept 
on again. Between midnight and day he came in sight of a camp fire 
and heard the barking of a dog. A number of Indians rose up from 
around the fire, and he crept softly away from the light. He laid down 
and remained quiet for some time. When all was still again, he re- 
sumed his slow and painful journey. He crawled into a small branch, 
and kept on down it for some distance upon the rocks, that he might 
leave no trace behind him. 

At daylight he ascended an eminence of considerable height to as- 
certain, if possible, where he was, and how to shape his future course ; 
but all around was wilderness. He was aiming to reach Bullitt's Lick, 
now about eight miles distant, and his progress was not half a mile an 
hour. He toiled on all day. Night came on — the second night of his 
painful journey. Since leaving the small branch the night before, he 
had found no water — since the day before the battle, he had not tasted 
food. Worn down with hunger, want of sleep, acute pain and raging 
thirst, he laid himself down to die. But his sufferings were not to end 



A Very Obstinate Defence and a Barren Victory. 615 

here — guided again by the stars, he struggled on. Every rag that he 
could interpose between the rugged stones and his bleeding hands and 
knee (for he could now use but one) was worn away. The morning 
came — the morning of the third day ; it brought him but little hope ; 
but the indomitable spirit within him disdained to yield, and during the 
day he made what progress he could. As the evening drew on he be- 
came aware that he was in the vicinity of Bullitt's Lick ; but he could 
go no further ; nature had made her last effort, and he laid himself 
down and prayed that death would speedily end his sufferings. < 

When darkness came on, from where he lay he could see the hun- 
dred fires of the furnaces at the licks all glowing ; and he even fancied 
he could see the dusky forms of the firemen as they passed to and fro 
around the pits, but they were more than half a mile off, and how was 
he to reach them ? He had not eaten a morsel in four days ; he had 
been drained of almost his last drop of blood ; the wounded leg had be- 
come so stiff and swollen that for the last two days and nights he had 
dragged it after him ; the flesh was worn from his knee and from the 
palms of his hands. Relief was in his sight, but to reach it was impos- 
sible. Suddenly he heard the tramp of a horse's feet approaching him, 
and hope sprang up once more in his breast. The sound came nearer 
and still more near. A path ran near the place where he lay ; a man 
on horseback approached within a few rods of him ; he mustered his 
remaining strength and hailed him, but to his utter surprise and dis- 
may, the horseman turned suddenly and galloped off towards the licks. 

Despair now seized him. To die alone of hunger and thirst, in sight 
of hundreds and of plenty, seemed to him the last dregs of the bitter- 
est cup that fate could offer to mortal lips. O ! that he could have fal- 
len by the side of his friend in the proud battle ! That he could have 
met the Indian tomahawk and died in the strength of his manhood, 
and not have been doomed to linger out his life in days and nights of 
pain and agony, and to die by piecemeal in childish despair. While 
these thoughts were passing in his mind, the horseman (a negro) re- 
gained the licks and alarmed the people there with the intelligence that 
the Indians were approaching. On being interrogated, all the account 
he could give was that some person had called to him in the woods, a 
half mile off, and called him by the wrong name. It was manifest it 
was not Indians, and forthwith a number of men set out, guided by 
the negro to the place. Crist's hopes again revived, when he heard 
voices and saw lights approaching. They came near and hailed. Crist 
knew the voice, and called to the man by name. This removed all 
doubt, and they approached the spot where he lay. A sad and mourn- 
ful sight was before them. A man that had left them a few days before, 



616 Our Western Border. 

in the bloom of youth, health and buoyant spirits, now lay stretched 
upon the earth, a worn and mangled skeleton, unable to lift a hand to 
bid them welcome. They bore him home ; the ball was extracted, but 
his recovery was slow and doubtful. It was a year before he was a man 
again. t 

The woman in the boat was carried a prisoner to Canada. Ten years 
afterwards, Crist met her again in Kentucky. She had been redeemed 
by an Indian trader, and brought into Wayne's camp on the Maumee, 
and restored to her friends. She informed Crist that the body of In- 
dians which made the attack on the boat numbered over one hundred 
and twenty, of whom about thirty were killed in the engagement. The 
account was confirmed by Indians whom Crist met with afterwards, and 
who had been in the battle. They told Crist that the boat's crew 
fought more like devils than men, and if they had taken one of them 
prisoner, they would have roasted him alive. Crist was afterwards a 
member of the Kentucky Legislature, and, in 1808, was a member ot 
Congress. He died at his residence in Bullitt county, in August, 1844, 
aged eighty years. 



A FIERCE COMBAT BY THREE KENTUCKIANS. 

In the Spring of 1784 three young Kentuckians, Davis, Caffree and 
McClure, pursued a party of southern Indians, who had stolen horses 
from Lincoln county, and finding it impossible to overtake them, they 
determined to go on to the nearest Indian settlement and make reprisals 
— horse stealing being at that time a very fashionable amusement and 
much practiced on both sides. After traveling several days they came 
within a few miles of an Indian town near the Tennessee river, called 
Chicamauga. Here they fell in with three Indians. Finding themselves 
equal in point of numbers, the two parties made signs of peace, shook 
hands and agreed to travel together. Each, however, was evidently 
suspicious of the other. The Indians walked on one side of the road 
and the whites upon the other, watching each other attentively. 

At length the Indians spoke together in tones so low and earnest, 
that the whites became satisfied of their treacherous intentions, and de- 
termined to anticipate them. Caffree being a very powerful man, pro- 
posed that he himself should seize one Indian, while Davis and McClure 
should shoot the other two. The plan was a bad one, but was un- 
fortunately adopted. Caffree sprang boldly upon the nearest Indian, 



A Fierce Combat by Three Kentuckians. 617 

grasped his throat firmly, hurled him to the ground, and drawing a cord 
from his pocket attempted to tie him. At the same instant Davis and 
McClure attempted to perform their respective parts. McClure killed 
his man, but Davis' gun missed fire. All three, /. e., the two white 
men and the Indian at whom Davis had flashed, immediately took trees 
and prepared for a skirmish, while Caffree remained upon the ground 
with the captured Indian — both exposed to the fire of the others. In a 
few seconds the savage at whom Davis had flashed, shot Caffree as he 
lay upon the ground and gave him a mortal wound, and was instantly 
shot in turn by McClure, who had reloaded his gun. Caffree becoming 
very weak, called upon Davis to come and assist him in tying the In- 
dian, and directly afterwards expired. As Davis was running up to the 
assistance of his friend, the Indian, now released by the death of his 
captor, sprang to his feet, and seizing Caffree's rifle, presented it men- 
acingly at Davis, whose gun was not in order for service, and who ran 
off into the forest, closely pursued by the Indian. McClure hastily re- 
loaded his gun, and taking up the rifle which Davis had dropped, 
followed them for some distance into the forest, making all those 
signals which had been concerted between them in case of separation. 
All, however, was vain; he saw nothing more of Davis, nor could he 
ever afterwards learn his fate. As he never returned to Kentucky, how- 
ever, he probably perished. 

McClure, finding himself alone in the enemy's country and sur- 
rounded by dead bodies, thought it prudent to abandon the object of 
the expedition and return to Kentucky. He accordingly retraced his 
steps, still bearing Davis' rifle in addition to his own. He had scarcely 
marched a mile before he saw advancing from the opposite direction an 
Indian warrior, riding a horse with a bell around its neck, and accom- 
panied by a boy on foot. Dropping one of the rifles, which might have 
created suspicion, McClure advanced with an air of confidence, extend- 
ing his hand and making other signs of peace. The opposite party 
appeared frankly to receive his overtures, and, dismounting, seated him- 
self upon a log, and drawing out his pipe, gave a few puffs himself and 
then handed it to McClure. 

In a few minutes another bell was heard, at the distance of half a 
mile, and a second party of Indians appeared upon horseback. The 
Indian with McClure now coolly informed him by signs that when the 
horsemen arrived, he (McClure) was to be bound and carried off as a 
prisoner with his feet tied under the horse's belly. In order to explain 
it more fully, the Indian got astride of the log and locked his legs 
together underneath it. McClure, internally thanking the fellow for 
his excess of candor, determined to disappoint him, and while his 



618 Our Western Border. 

enemy was busily engaged in riding the log, and mimicking the actions 
of a prisoner, he very quietly blew his brains out and ran off into the 
woods. The Indian boy instantly mounted the belled horse and rode 
off in an opposite direction. 

McClure was fiercely pursued by several small Indian dogs, that fre- 
quently ran between his legs and threw him down. After falling five 
or six times, his eyes became full of dust and he was totally blind. 
Despairing of escape, he doggedly lay upon his face, expecting every 
instant to feel the edge of the tomahawk. To his astonishment, how- 
ever, no enemy appeared, and even the Indian dogs, after tugging at 
him for a few minutes, and completely stripping him of his breeches, 
left him to continue his journey unmolested. Finding everything quiet, 
in a few moments he arose, and taking up his gun, continued his march 
to Kentucky. He reached home in safety, and in 1820 was still alive. 
This communication is from his own lips, and may be relied upon as 
correct. 



THOMAS MARSHALL HAILED BY JAMES GIRTY. 

In the course of the next year many families came down the Ohio 
in boats, landed at Maysville, and continued their route by land, in 
such parts of the country as pleased them. Out of a number of inci- 
dents which attended the passage of boats down the river, I shall select 
two, as worthy of being mentioned. Colonel Thomas Marshall, for- 
merly commander of the Third Virginia Regiment on continental estab- 
lishment, and subsequently holding the same rank in the Virginia artil- 
lery, embarked, with a numerous family, on board of a flat-bottomed 
boat, and descended the Ohio without any incident worthy of notice 
until he had passed the mouth of the Kanawha. Here, about ten o'clock 
at night, he was hailed from the northern shore by a man who spoke 
good English, and quickly announced himself as James Girty, the 
brother of Simon, both of whom have been repeatedly mentioned. The 
boat dropped slowly down within one hundred and fifty yards of the 
shore, and Girty, making a corresponding movement on the beach, the 
conference was kept up for several minutes. He began by mentioning 
his name, and inquired that of the master of the boat. 

Having been satisfied upon this head, he assured him that he knew 
him well, respected him highly, etc., and concluded with some rather 
extraordinary remarks. "He had been posted there," he said, "by 



Captain James Ward and the Fat Dutchman. 619 

the order of his brother Simon, to warn all boats of the danger of per- 
mitting themselves to be decoyed ashore. The Indians had become 
jealous of him, and he had lost that influence which he formerly held 
among them. He deeply regretted the injury which he had inflicted 
upon his countrymen, and wished to be restored to their society. In 
order to convince them of the sincerity of his regard, he had directed 
him to warn all boats of the snares spread for them. Every effort would 
be made to draw passengers ashore. White men would appear on the 
bank, and children would be heard to supplicate for mercy. But," 
continued he, "do you keep the middle of the river, and steel your 
heart against every mournful application which you may receive." The 
Colonel thanked him for his intelligence, and continued his course. 



CAPTAIN JAMES WARD AND THE FAT DUTCHMAN. 

About the same time Captain James Ward, until late years a highly 
respectable citizen of Mason county, Ky., was descending the Ohio, 
under circumstances which rendered a rencontre with the Indians pecu- 
liarly to be dreaded. He, together with half a dozen others, one of 
them his nephew, embarked in a crazy boat, about forty-five feet long 
and eight feet wide, with no other bulwark than a single pine plank 
above each gunwale. The boat was much encumbered with baggage, 
and seven horses were on board. Having seen no enemy for several 
days, they had become secure and careless and permitted the boat to 
drift within fifty yards of the Ohio shore. Suddenly several hundred 
Indians showed themselves on the bank, and running down boldly to 
the water's edge, opened a heavy fire upon the boat. The astonishment 
of the crew may be conceived. 

Captain Ward and his nephew were at the oars when the enemy ap- 
peared, and the Captain, knowing that their safety depended upon their 
ability to regain the middle of the river, kept his seat firmly and 
exerted his utmost powers at the oar; but his nephew started up at sight 
of the enemy, seized his rifle, and was in the act of leveling it, when 
he received a ball in the breast and fell dead in the bottom of the boat. 
Unfortunately, his oar fell into the river, and the Captain, having no 
one to pull against him, rather urged the boat nearer to the hostile 
shore than otherwise. He quickly seized a plank, however, and giving 
his own oar to another of the crew, he took the station which his 
nephew had held, and, unhurt by the shower ot bullets which flew 



620 Our Western Border. 

around him, continued to exert himself until the boat had reached a 
more respectable distance. He then for the first time looked around 
him, in order to observe the condition of the crew. 

His nephew lay in his blood, perfectly lifeless; the horses had been 
all killed or mortally wounded. Some had fallen overboard; others 
were struggling violently, and causing their frail bark to dip water so 
abundantly as to excite the most serious apprehensions. But the crew 
presented the most singular spectacle. A Captain, who had served 
with reputation in the Continental army, seemed now totally bereft of 
his faculties. He lay upon his back in the bottom of the boat, with 
hands uplifted, and a countenance in which terror was personified, ex- 
claiming, in a tone of despair, "Oh, Lord! Oh, Lord!" A Dutch- 
man, whose weight might amount to about three hundred pounds, was 
anxiously engaged in endeavoring to find shelter for his bulky person, 
which, from the lowness of the gunwales, was a very difficult under- 
taking. In spite of his utmost efforts a portion of his posterial luxu- 
riance appeared above the gunwale, and afforded a mark to the enemy 
which brought a constant shower of balls around it. 

In vain he shifted his position. The hump still appeared, and the 
balls still flew around it, until the Dutchman, losing all patience, raised 
his head above the gunwale, and, in a tone of querulous remonstrance, 
called out, " Oh, now ! quit tat tamned nonsense tere, will you?" Not 
a shot was fired from the boat. At one time, after they had partly re- 
gained the current, Captain Ward attempted to bring his rifle to bear 
upon them, but so violent was the agitation of the boat from the furious 
struggles of the horses, that he could not steady his piece within twenty 
yards of the enemy, and, quickly laying it aside, returned to the oar. 

The Indians followed them down the river for more than an hour, 
but, having no canoes, they did not attempt to board; and as the boat 
was at length transferred to the opposite side of the river, they finally 
abandoned the pursuit and disappeared. None of the crew, save the 
young man already mentioned, were hurt, although the Dutchman's 
seat of honor served as a target for the space of an hour, and the Con- 
tinental Captain was deeply mortified at the sudden, and, as he said, 
"unaccountable" panic which had seized him. Captain Ward himself 
was protected by a post, which had been fastened to the gunwale, and 
behind which he sat while rowing. 



Exciting Narrative of Major Van Campen. 621 



EXCITING NARRATIVE OF MAJOR VAN CAMPEN. 

Moses Van Campen and his brother Jacobus, or " Cobus Van Camp," 
as he was called, were famous in the border wars along the Susquehan- 
na. Moses was a bold, daring scout or spy, and was engaged by Sulli- 
van on his expedition through the Six Nations' country, when, in return 
for the massacre of Wyoming and other enormities, it was determined 
to retaliate by ravaging the Indian country. From Major Van Camp- 
en's petition to Congress for a pension, (which, we may add, was speed- 
ily granted, so conspicuous were his courage and services,) we quote the 
following account of a desperate fight with Indians: 

On the return of the army I was taken with the camp fever, and was 
removed to the fort which I had built in '78, where my father was still 
living. In the course of the Winter I recovered my health, and my 
father's house having been burnt in '78, by the party which attacked the 
before-mentioned fort, my father requested me to go with him and a 
younger brother to our farm, about four miles distant, to make prepara- 
tions for building another, and raising some grain. But little apprehen- 
sion was entertained of molestation from the Indians this season, as 
they had been so completely routed the year before. We left the fort 
about the last of March, 1780, accompanied by my uncle and his son, 
about twelve years old, and one Peter Pence. We had been on our 
farm about four or five days when, on the morning of the 30th of 
March, we were surprised by a party of ten Indians. My father was 
lunged through with a war spear, his throat was cut and he was scalped, 
while my brother was tomahawked, scalped and thrown into the fire 
before my eyes. While I was struggling with a warrior, the fellow who 
had killed my father drew his spear from his body and made a violent 
thrust at me. I shrank from the spear; the savage who had hold of me 
turned it with his hand so that it only penetrated my vest and shirt. 
They were then satisfied with taking me prisoner, as they had the same 
morning taken my uncle's little son and Pence, though they killed my 
uncle. The same party, before they reached us, had touched on the 
lower settlements of Wyoming, and killed a Mr. Upson, and took a boy 
prisoner of the nama of Rodgers. 

We were now marched off up Fishing Creek, and in the afternoon 
of the same day we came to Huntingdon, where the Indians found four 
white men at a sugar camp, who fortunately discovered the Indians and 
fled to a house; the Indians only fired on them and wounded a Captain 



622 Our Western Border. 

Ranson, when they continued their course till night. Having encamped 
and made their fire, we, the prisoners, were tied and well secured, five 
Indians lying on one side of us and five on the other ; in the morning 
they pursued their course, and, leaving the waters of Fishing Creek, 
touched the head waters of Hemlock Creek, where they found one 
Abraham Pike, his wife and child. Pike was made prisoner, but his 
wife and child they painted, and told foggo squaw, go home. They con- 
tinued their course that day, and encamped the same night in the same 
manner as the previous. It came into my mind that sometimes in- 
dividuals performed wonderful actions and surmounted the greatest 
dangers. I then decided that these fellows must die ; and thought of the 
plan to dispatch them. The next day I had an opportunity to commu- 
nicate my plan to my fellow prisoners ; they treated it as a visionary 
scheme for three men to attempt to dispatch ten Indians. I spread be- 
fore them the advantages that three men would have over ten when 
asleep; that we would be the first prisoners that would be taken 
into their towns and villages after our army had destroyed their corn; 
that we should be tied to the stake and suffer a cruel death; we had now 
an inch of ground to fight on, and if we failed it would only be death, 
and we might as well die one way as another. 

That day passed away, and having encamped for the night, we lay as 
before. In the morning we came to the river, and saw their canoes; 
they had descended the river and run their canoes up on Little Tunk- 
hannock Creek, so called; they crossed the river and set their canoes 
adrift. I renewed my suggestion to my companions to dispatch them 
that night, and urged they must decide the question. They agreed to 
make the trial; but how shall we do it, was the question. Disarm them, 
and each take a tomahawk and come to close work at once. There are 
three of us ; plant our blows with judgment and three times three will 
make nine, and the tenth one we can kill at our leisure. They agreed 
to disarm them, and after that one take possession of the guns and 
fire, at the one side of the four, and the other two take tomahawks on 
the other side and dispatch them. I observed that would be a very un- 
certain way ; the first shot fired would give the alarm; they would 
discover it to be the prisoners, and might defeat us. I had to yield to 
their plan. Peter Pence was chosen to fire the guns, Pike and myself 
to tomahawk. We cut and carried plenty of wood to give them a 
good fire ; the prisoners were tied and laid in their, places ; after I was 
laid down, one of them had occasion to use his knife ; he dropped it 
at my feet ; I turned my foot over it and concealed it ; they all lay 
down and fell asleep. 

About midnight I got up and found them in sound sleep. I slipped 






Exciting Narrative of Major Van Campen. 623 

to Pence, who rose ; I cut him loose and handed him the knife ; he did 
the same for me, and I in turn took the knife and cut Pike loose ; in a 
minute's time we disarmed them. 

Pence now took his station at the guns. Pike and myself, with our 
tomahawks, took our stations ; I was to tomahawk three on the right 
wing, and Pike two on the left. That moment Pike's two awoke, and 
were getting up ; here Pike proved a coward, and laid down. It was a 
critical moment. I saw there was no time to be lost; their heads 
turned up fair ; I dispatched them in a moment, and turned to my lot, 
as per agreement, and as I was about to dispatch the last on my side of 
the fire, Pence shot and did good execution ; there was only one at the 
off wing that his ball did not reach ; his name was Mohawke, a stout, 
bold, daring fellow. In the darm he jumped off about three rods from 
the fire ; he saw it was the prisoners that made the attack, and, giving 
the war whoop, he darted to take possession of the guns ; I was as 
quick to prevent him ; the contest was then between him and myself. 
As I raised my tomahawk he turned quick to jump from me ; I followed 
him and struck at him, but, missing his head, my tomahawk struck his 
shoulder, or rather the back of his neck ; he pitched forward and fell ; 
at the same time my foot slipped, and I fell by his side ; we clinched ; 
his arm was naked ; he caught me round my neck ; at the same time I 
caught him with my left arm around the body and gave him a close 
hug, at the same time feeling for his knife, but could not reach it. 

In our scuffle my tomahawk dropped out. My head was under the 
wounded shoulder, and almost suffocated me with his blood. I made a 
violent spring and broke from his hold ; we both rose at the same time, 
and he ran ; it took me some time to clear the blood from my eyes ; 
my tomahawk got covered up and I could not find it in time to over- 
take him ; he was the only one of the party that escaped. Pike was 
powerless. I always have had a reverence for Christian devotion. 
Pike was trying to pray, and Pence swearing at him, charging him with 
cowardice, and saying it was no time to pray — he ought to fight ; we 
were masters of the ground, and in possession of all their guns, blankets, 
match coats, &c. I then turned my attention to scalping them, and 
recovering the scalps of my father, brother, and others, I strung 
them all on my belt for safe keeping. We kept our ground till morn- 
ing, and built a raft, it being near the bank of the river where they had 
encamped, about fifteen miles below Tioga Point ; we got all our 
plunder on it and set sail for Wyoming, the nearest settlement. Our 
raft gave way, when we made for land, and we lost considerable 
property, though we saved our guns and ammunition, and took to 
land ; we reached Wyalusing late in the afternoon. 



624 



Our Western Border. 



Came to the Narrows ; discovered a smoke below, and a raft lying 
at the shore, by which we were certain that a party of Indians had 
passed us in the course of the day, and had halted for the night. There 
was no alternative for us but to rout them or go over the mountain; the 
snow on the north side of the hill was deep; we knew, from the appear- 
ance of the raft, that the party must be small ; we had two rifles each ; 
my only fear was of Pike's cowardice. To know the worst of it, we 
agreed that I should ascertain their number and give the signal for the 
attack ; I crept down the side of the hill, so near as to see their fires 
and packs, but saw no Indians. I concluded they had gone hunting 
for meat, and that this was a good opportunity for us to make off with 
their raft to the opposite side of the river. I gave the signal ; they 
came and threw their packs on to the raft, which was made of small, 
dry pine timber ; with poles and paddles we drove her briskly across 
the river, and had got nearly out of reach of shore when two of them 
came in ; they fired, but their shots did no injury. We soon got under 
cover of an island, and went several miles ; we had waded deep creeks 
through the day ; the night was cold ; we landed on an island and found 
a sink hole, in which we made our fire ; after warming we were alarmed 
by a cracking in the crust; Pike supposed the Indians had got on 
to the island, and was calling for quarters ; to keep him quiet we 
threatened him with his life; the stepping grew plainer, and seemed 
coming directly to the fire ; I kept watch, and soon a noble raccoon 
came under the light. I shot the raccoon, when Pike jumped up and 
called out, "Quarters, gentlemen! quarters, gentlemen!" I took my 
game by the leg and threw it down to the fire. " Here, you cowardly 
rascal," I cried, "skin that and give us a roast for supper." The next 
night we reached Wyoming, and there was much joy at seeing us. 



Chapter X. 



THE FRIGHTFUL MASSACRE OF WYOMING. 

A scream ! 'tis but the panther's — naught 

Breaks the calm sunshine there. 
A thicket stirs ! a deer has sought 

From sight a closer lair. 
Again upon the grass they droop, 
Then bursts the well-known whoop on whoop ; 

Shrill, deafening on the ear. 
And onward, from their ambush deep, 
Like wolves the savage warriors leap. — Street. 

One of the most dreadful and memorable atrocities recorded in 
American history was the awful massacre of Wyoming, made more illus- 
trious by affording the theme for Campbell's Gertrude of Wyoming. 
It happened in 1778. The valley of Wyoming, situate in Luzerne 
county, Pennsylvania, was, and is yet, one of the richest and most 
beautiful in the country. It was early settled by a happy, contented 
and patriotic population, but was greatly exposed to incursions from 
the powerful Six Nations, then under malign tory influence. 

Nearly all the able-bodied men of Wyoming fit to bear arms had 
been called away into the Continental army. The settlement consisted 
of eight townships, each five miles square, beautifully situated on either 
side of the Susquehanna, and had increased so rapidly that they were 
enabled to send a thousand men to serve in the armies of their country. 
To provide against the dangers of their defenceless situation, four forts 
had been erected to cover them from savage irruptions ; but they had 
also the misfortune to have among them some very bitter royalists, and 
the two parties of whigs and tories were actuated by feelings of the 
most rancorous animosity. It was to be expected that these tories, 
many of whom had fled to join Johnson and Brant, of the Mohawk 
valley, would bring down vengeance upon a settlement which had 
evinced such ardent spirit in the cause of liberty. 

Late in June, therefore, a large body of tories and savages, number- 
ing eleven hundred, under the lead of that notorious royalist, Colonel 
40 



626 Our Western Border. 

John Butler, descended the Susquehanna, and appeared before Jenkins' 
Port, at the head of the valley. The invasion had not altogether been 
unexpected. For several weeks previous small parties of strange In- 
dians had come and gone, professing friendship with their lips but act- 
ing in the most secret and treacherous manner. Colonel Zebulon 
Butler at once took alarm, and wrote to Congress and Washington, 
presenting his fears and the reasons for them, but nothing was done. 

Jenkins' Fort was obliged to capitulate, and Wintermoot's followed 
suit. There were several more stockade forts at Wyoming, but with no 
other means of defence than the small arms fired through loop holes. 
In all Wyoming valley there was but one cannon — a four-pounder, 
without balls, and simply maintained at the Wilkesbarre Fort as an alarm 
gun. Almost all the defenders took refuge in Forty Fort. They only 
numbered about four hundred men and boys. Many of the men were 
gray-headed — some of them grandfathers. By invitation, Colonel 
Zebulon Butler placed himself at the head of this force, and prepared 
to make defence as best he could. 

History does not furnish an instance of more gallant devotion than 
they exhibited. On July 3d they marched out, very rashly and un- 
wisely, it must be confessed, to meet the enemy, Colonel Butler com- 
manding the right wing and Colonel Dennison the left. Opposed to 
Zebulon Butler was John Butler, with his own tory rangers, in full uni- 
form, and a detachment of Sir John Johnson's Royal Greens. Opposed 
to Dennison were the Indians, chiefly Senecas, seven hundred strong, 
led on by Gi-en-gwah-toh. Until very lately, the celebrated Mohawk 
Chief, Brant, has been credited with the leadership of the hostile sava- 
ges on this expedition, but it has been proved by incontestable evidence 
that he was not. He himself always denied it most vehemently, and so 
convinced the poet Campbell, who had given him such a bad eminence 
in his Gertrude of Wyoming, that in the preface to the next edition, he 
did Brant a tardy justice. 

The engagement commenced in the afternoon, and for some time was 
fought with great spirit, but the overwhelming force of the enemy soon 
enabled them not only to outflank their opponents, but actually to gain 
their rear. The men falling rapidly on all sides, Colonel Dennison 
gave the order to fall back to obtain a better position. Some misun- 
derstood the order as a retreat, and great confusion ensued. The prac- 
ticed enemy sprang forward at once ; raised a horrid yell along their 
whole ranks and rushed in among the retiring columns with spear and 
tomahawk. 

When the left was thrown into confusion, Colonel Zebulon Butler 
threw himself in front and rode in between the two lines. " Don't 



The Frightful Massacre of Wyoming. 627 

leave me, my children," he appealed to them, "the victory will be 
ours." It was too late ! The battle was lost ! Indeed, it should never 
have been fought. It has even been considered a blunder, for what 
could four hundred do against eleven hundred, well posted and con- 
fident of victory. 

Now followed a most dreadful massacre and the most heart-rending 
scenes. The brave but overpowered defenders were slaughtered with- 
out mercy, principally in flight and after having surrendered. The 
plain, the river and the island of Monockonock were the principal 
scenes of this atrocious massacre. Sixteen men, placed in a ring around 
a rock, called to this day Queen Esther's Rock, were held by stout In- 
dians while they were, one by one, slaughtered by the knife or toma- 
hawk, it is said, of Catharine Montour, generally known by the name 
of Queen Esther, but this is very positively denied. In another simi- 
lar ring, nine persons were murdered in the same way. Many were 
shot in the river, or hunted out and slain in their hiding places on Mo- 
nockonock island. But a small proportion of the men who went into 
battle survived. 

The survivors took refuge in Wilkesbarre and Forty forts. Mr. Hol- 
lenback, who had swum the river naked, amid a shower of balls, came 
rushing into the former fort with the dread cry, "all is lost! " when 
the inmates fled to the mountains and down the river. Their sufferings 
were extreme. Colonel Zebulon Butler and the soldiers who had es- 
caped the battle, understanding that no quarter was to be given, were 
among the refugees. Colonel Dennison, with a large number of the 
refugees from the battle, threw themselves into Forty Fort, and next 
day succeeded in getting terms from the tory Butler. The current his- 
torical accounts of the Wyoming battle and massacre were very much 
exaggerated, and especially of Butler's ferocity and the indiscriminate 
massacre which followed the surrender of the forts. Not a life of all 
those under Dennis oris charge was lost. It was horrible enough, but 
not so bad as represented. A general scene of ruthless devastation 
now occurred throughout the valley. The houses and grounds of the 
tories alone escaped rapine and ruin. Such of the cattle as were not 
killed had their tongues cut out. Fire, sword and scalping knife, all 
were employed. This one attack made one hundred and fifty widows 
and six hundred orphans in that once peaceful and beautiful valley, 
while families were swept out of existence or driven to protracted suf- 
ferings by flight. 

Of the Gore family, out of seven who went into battle, but one es- 
caped. From the farm of Mr. Weeks seven males went to battle — not 
one escaped. The survivors fled to the mountains or down the valley, 



628 



Our Western Border. 



but their sufferings from fright, hunger and hurried traveling were ex- 
treme. In one party of a hundred, there was but one man. 

The chief part of the invading army was led off by Butler in a few 
days, but parties of Indians continued in the valley for some time, until 
from every part of the compass fire after fire arose, and all who could 
get away fled. Every pathway was thronged with women and children, 
old men and boys. The following Sunday twenty Indians came to Mr. 
Weeks' house, and ordered breakfast and for him to clear out. ' 'All 
my sons have fallen," said the old man, " and here I am left with four- 
teen grandchildren, all young and helpless." No use; he had to go. 
After breakfast an Indian leader wheeled a rocking chair into the mid- 
dle of the road, sat himself down and complacently rocked himself. 
The rest afterwards followed his example, and thus rocked themselves 
into ■-such good humor that they allowed Weeks a pair of oxen and a 
wagon to carry the family off. 

When Forty Fort capitulated, Butler, as he entered, saw Sergeant 
Boyd, a late English deserter from the British, who was a good drill ser- 
geant, and had been employed training the men in the fort. " Boyd," 
said Butler, recognizing him, "go to that tree ! " pointing to a pine 
not far outside. "I hope," replied the poor Sergeant, "that your 
honor will consider me a prisoner of war." " Go to that tree," re- 
peated Butler, sternly. Boyd had to go, and was instantly shot down. 



Catharine Montour, alias Queen Esther. 

Tioga Point, Bradford county, Pa., near the New York State line and 
at the junction of the Tioga and the Susquehanna, was noted in the an- 
nals of Indian warfare as the site of an ancient Indian town and a place 
of rendezvous for parties passing up and down the two rivers. At this 
place stood the "castle" of the celebrated Queen Esther, who is said to 
have played such a cruel and pitiless role at the Wyoming massacre. 
Her permanent residence was at Catharine's Town, at the head of Sen- 
eca Lake. 

Catharine Montour was a half-breed, who had been well educated in 
Canada. Her reputed father was one of the French Governors of that 
province, and she herself was a lady of comparative refinement. She 
was much caressed in Philadelphia, and mingled in the best society. 
She exercised a controlling influence among the Indians, and resided in 
this quarter while they were making their incursions upon the Wyoming 
settlements. It has been even suspected that she presided at the bloody 
sacrifice of the Wyoming prisoners after the battle ; but Colonel Stone, 
who is good authority upon the history of the Six Nations, utterly dis- 



Attack and Escape of Hammond and the Bennetts. 629 

credits the suspicion. The plain upon which her mansion stood is 
called Queen Esther's Flat. Old Mr. Covenhoven, who still lives in 
Lycoming county, was one of Colonel Hartley's expedition to Tioga, 
just after the battle of Wyoming, for the purpose of burning the Mora- 
vian villages and the Indian town at Tioga. Mr. Covenhoven says, 
that he himself put the brand to Queen Esther's "castle." He describes 
it as a long, low edifice, constructed with logs set in the ground at in- 
tervals of ten feet, with horizontal hewn plank or puncheons neatly 
set into grooves in the posts. It was roofed or thatched, and had some 
sort of a porch or other ornament over the doorway. 

Fierce Attack and Escape of Hammond and the Bennetts. 

Among the many exciting adventures attending the massacre, none 
exceeds in thrilling interest the story of the escape of Hammond and 
the Bennetts from their Indian captors. Lebbeus Hammond was one 
of two who bounded off and escaped from the slaughter about Queen 
Esther's Rock. He, with Thomas Bennett and son, a lad only fourteen 
years old, were surprised in the woods on the march, when the snow 
was waist deep, but the savages drove them on without rest. At night 
they were secured by slender poles laid across them, a redskin lying 
upon either end. Their fate was sure. Bennett had torn a button from 
his coat and wished to replace it. "Fool!" said one of the captors, 
"only one day more; you die at Wyalusing!" Then they told of the 
fate of a man named Boyd, whom they knew, and who had been cap- 
tured not long before. They related that they had cut off his fingers 
and toes, one by one, and plucked out his eyes, but could not extract 
from him a cry or a groan. "Boyd brave man," they applaudingly 
said. 

The prisoners were now left alone for a few minutes. "Hammond,'* 
said Bennett, "we must rise upon them to-night ! " "It will be a peril- 
ous undertaking," replied Hammond, "but it may be our last chance. 
We may succeed, and if I'm to die, I'll sell my life as dearly as possi- 
ble." That night the prisoners were secured as usual. Towards morn- 
ing they were released from the poles and suffered to walk about a little. 
Soon the Indians, save one, who acted as guard, fell into a deep slum- 
ber. This one sat over the fire, roasting a deer's head and lazily pick- 
ing out the dainty morsels. 

Now or never was the time ! Hammond worked his way quietly to 
where lay an axe. The boy stood near where the guns were stacked. 
Bennett gained a spear unperceived, and cautiously approaching the 
nodding guard, drove it through his body, throwing him over into the 



630 Our Western Border. 

fire. Hammond, with his axe, dashed in the skull of the savage who 
had told him of Boyd's torture. A third blow buried the axe in the 
neck of another wretch who was attempting to rise. 

Bennett, leaving the spear in the body of his first victim, seized 
a tomahawk and dealt murderous blows. The boy snapped three guns 
at the enemy, one after the other. Not one would go off. A stout 
Indian now rushed upon him, but the brave lad, clubbing a musket, 
buried the lock deep in the head of his opponent. Five of the seven 
Indians were actually now dead. The other two fled, one desperately 
wounded by the boy. Bennett flung his hatchet at the other, which 
struck him in the back, without, however, impeding his course. Ben- 
nett was an old hunter, and now led his gallant party over the ridges, 
carefully avoiding all Indian trails. They w r aded through the deep 
snow, swam several streams, only stopping to pick some wintergreen 
here and there, where the snow was drifted off, and reached their homes 
in three days. 

The Indian who had been wounded by young Bennett, died in the 
woods. His companion, whom the elder Bennett had hit, while in 
flight, with his hatchet, was found lying insensible by a party of his 
tribe. Several years after a treaty was negotiated with the Indians ; 
Hammond, who was present, saw an old savage with a crooked back 
walking about, whose face seemed familiar to him. He inquired the 
cause of his stooping. "A Yankee tomahawked me at Wyoming," was 
the sullen reply. It was Bennett's old target. 



FRANCES SLOCUM, THE LOST SISTER. 

Three or four months after the massacre, many of the settlers re- 
turned and commenced rebuilding their ruined homes, but savage in- 
cursions and murders continued. Near the present town of Wilkes- 
barre lived a family by the name of Slocum. While the males were ab- 
sent one day in the fields, the house was surrounded by yelling Indians. 
There were in it a mother, a daughter about nine years of age, a son 
aged thirteen, a daughter aged five and a little boy aged two and a half. 
A young man and a boy by the name of Kingsley were present, grinding 
a knife. The first thing the Indians did was to shoot down the young 
man and scalp him with the knife he had in his hand. The nine year 
old sister took the little boy, two and a half years old, and ran out of 
the back door to go to the fort. The Indians chased her just enough 



Frances Slocum, the Lost Sister. 631 

to give her a desperate fright, and laughed heartily at the way she ran 
and dragged along her chubby little brother. 

They then took the Kingsley boy and young Slocum, aged thirteen, 
and little Frances, aged five, and prepared to depart, but finding young 
Slocum lame, at the earnest entreaties of the mother, they left him. 
The mother's heart was crushed, and for years she could not speak of 
the scene without blinding tears. She saw a savage throw her little girl 
over his shoulder, and as her hair fell over her little face, with one hand 
she brushed it aside and the other she held out imploringly to her mother, 
The Indian then turned into the bushes, and that was the last scene that 
dwelt in the mother's memory. About a month after the redskins came 
again, murdered the aged grandfather and wounded the lame boy. The 
last child was born a few months after these tragedies. 

The hopes, fears and yearnings of the stricken mother concerning the 
little toddling Frances can never be described. As the boys grew up 
and became men, they were very anxious to know the fate of their little 
fair-haired sister. They wrote letters, sent inquiries, made journeys 
through all the West and into the Canadas, if peradventure they might 
learn anything respecting her fate. Four of these long journeys were 
made in vain. A silence, deep as that of the deepest forest through 
which they wandered, hung over her fate, and that for sixty years. 

Readers will now pass over fifty-eight years from the time of this cap- 
tivity, and suppose themselves far in the wilderness, in the farthest part 
of Indiana. A very respectable agent of the United States is traveling 
there, and weary and belated, with a tired horse, he stops at an Indian 
wigwam for the night. He can speak the Indian language. The family 
are rich, for Indians have horses and skins in abundance. In the course 
of the evening he notices that the hair of the woman is light, and her 
skin, under her dress, is also white. She told him she was a white child, 
but had been carried away when a very small girl. She could only re- 
member that her name was Slocum, that she lived in a little house on 
the banks of the Susquehanna, and how many there were in her father's 
family and the order of their ages. But the name of the town she 
could not remember. On reaching his home, the agent mentioned the 
story to his mother ; she urged and pressed him to write and print the 
account. Accordingly he wrote and sent it to Lancaster, Pa., request- 
ing that it might be published. By some unaccountable blunder, it lay 
in the office two years before it was printed. But in 1838 it was pub- 
lished. In a few days it fell into the hands of Mr. Slocum, of Wilkes- 
barre, who was the little two and a half years old boy, when Frances 
was taken. In a few days he was off to seek his sister, taking with him 
his oldest sister, (the one who aided him to escape,) writing a brother 



632 



Our Western Border. 



who lived in Ohio, and who was born after the captivity, to meet him 
and go with him. 

After traveling more than three hundred miles through the wilder- 
ness, they reached the Indian country, the home of the Miami Indian. 
Nine miles from the nearest white, they found the little wigwam. "I 
shall know my sister," said the civilized sister, because she lost the nail 
of her first finger. You, brother, hammered it off in the blacksmith 
shop when she was four years old." They go into the cabin and find 
an Indian woman having the appearance of seventy-five. She is painted 
and jeweled off, and dressed like the Indians in all respects. Nothing 
but her hair and color of skin, would indicate her origin. They get an 
interpreter and begin to converse. She tells them where she was born, 
her name, &c, with the order of her father's family. "How came 
your nail gone?" said the oldest sister. "My oldest brother pounded 
it off when I was a little child, in the shop?" In a word, they were 
satisfied that this was Frances, their long-lost sister! They asked her 
what her Christian name was. She could not remember. Was it Fran- 
ces? She smiled and said "yes." It was the first time she had heard 
it pronounced for sixty years ! Here, then, they were met — two brothers 
and two sisters ! They were all satisfied they were brothers and sisters. 
But what a contrast ! The brothers were walking the cabin unable to 
speak ; the oldest sister was weeping, but the poor Indian sat motionless 
and passionless — as indifferent as a spectator. There was no throbbing, 
no fine chords in her bosom to be touched. 

When Mr. Slocum was giving this history, one said to him, "But 
could she not speak English!" "Not a word." "Did she know her 
age?" "No — had no idea of it." "But was she entirely ignorant?" 
"Sir, she didn't know when Sunday comes ! " Her whole history might 
be told in a word. She lived with the Delawares, who carried her off, 
till grown up, and then married a Delaware. He either died or run 
away, and she then married a Miami Indian, a chief. She had two 
daughters, both of whom married and lived in the glory of an Indian 
cabin. Not one of the family could speak a word of English. They 
had horses in abundance, and when the Indian sister wanted to accom- 
pany her new relatives, she whipped out, bridled her horse, and then, 
a la Turk, mounted astride and was off. At night she threw a blanket 
down upon the floor, and at once was asleep. 

The brothers and sister tried to persuade their lost sister to return 
with them, and, if she desired it, bring her children. They would 
transplant her again on the banks of the Susquehanna, and of their 
wealth make her home happy. But no. They had always been kind 
to her, and she had promised her late husband, on his death-bed, that 



The Revenge of Colonel John Moredock. 633 

she would never leave the Indians. And there they left her and hers, 
wild and darkened heathens, though they sprang from a pious race. 



THE REVENGE OF COLONEL JOHN MOREDOCK. 

Towards the end of the last century there lived at Vincennes, Indiana, 
a woman who had passed her whole life on the troubled border. She 
had been widowed several times by the savages, and on the death of 
her last husband, Moredock by name, determined to move still further 
west to better the chances for her growing sons. Joining a company 
who were proceeding to Illinois by way of the Mississippi, they pro- 
ceeded in pirogues safely and pleasantly down the Ohio, and thence up 
the Mississippi, until they reached Grand Tower, almost within sight of 
their destination. Here, supposing themselves entirely safe from dan- 
ger, the men carelessly leaped on shore to cordell the boats up against 
the swift current which rushed like a mill race around the base of a cliff. 
The women and children, about twenty in number, thoughtlessly fol- 
lowed. 

While the whole party were thus joyfully strolling along between the 
cliff and the swift river, all at once, "like thunder from a clear sky," 
was heard the horrid, blood-curdling yell of savage onset, and a vol- 
ley from rifles above them stretched half a dozen of their number on 
the ground, while, almost at the same moment, a mob of the painted 
demons appeared at each end of this fatal death-trap. 

The scene of confusion which followed beggars all description. The 
brave and experienced borderers saw the desperate strait they were in, 
and for an instant stood appalled. But only for an instant ! for in the 
next the pluck and wondrous courage of the iron-nerved and lion- 
hearted pioneers appeared, and with a shout of defiance they rushed to 
the encounter, giving yell for yell, blow for blow. It was a desperate 
but a hopeless conflict. They were, being half armed, huddled to- 
gether like a flock of sheep, and encumbered with terror-stricken women 
and children — all cut down but one single survivor — John, the brave 
son of the widow Moredock. 

He had fought like a tiger-cat until all hope, was lost, and then, aided 
by the confusion and the cloud of smoke which hung over the murder- 
ous spot like a dense funeral pall, leaped into a cleft of the cliff that 
had caught his roving eye, and for the moment was safe. From this 
' ' coign of vantage ' ' he had the unspeakable misery of witnessing a 



634 Our Western Border. 

scene so horrid and terrible as to burn itself forever in his memory; 
turn his warm, young heart to stone, and engender that terrible thirst 
for revenge which was the ruling passion of all his after life, even after 
he had become a man of mark and held offices of trust in his adopted 
State. 

Crouching there among the rocks and beholding the inhuman and 
barbarous savages mutilating the remains of mother, brothers and sis- 
ters, he took a solemn oath to devote his future life to a terrible revenge 
against the race, and to stay not his blood-red hand until every single 
fiend of that accursed band should give blood for blood. 

How long he remained in that rocky cleft he could never tell. But 
while the savages were rifling the boats and securing their gory trophies, 
his heart hardened, his nerves became like steel, and after the Indians' 
departure, he stept stealthily down from his hiding place a man : stern, 
desperate and pitiless. Having ascertained that all his company were 
stone dead, and having buried the remains of his relatives, the lonely 
and desolate youth struck across the prairie to the nearest settlement on 
the Kaskaskia river, where he arrived next morning and told his fearful 
tale. 

He found many sympathizers among the hardy, reckless borderers, 
and having announced his determination to avenge the massacre, he 
became at once the leader of a band of unquailing scouts, who never 
knew fear and never turned the back to foe. Staunch and tireless as a 
pack of bloodhounds, this select band of avengers ranged from the 
Des Moines to the Ohio. Now they were on the track of the murderers, 
and were almost in sight of them. Once they came up with the objects 
of their anxious quest on the banks of the Missouri, a hundred miles 
from the frontier, but as Moredock wished to utterly wipe out the devil- 
ish crew, instead of merely striking a partial blow, he refrained be- 
cause the peculiar location of his foes' camp allowed of escape. His 
revenge was only postponed ; the thirst for blood was inextinguishable. 

Fortune at last favored Moredock. A short time afterwards he 
tracked the whole gang to the Mississippi, and found that they had all 
crossed to and encamped on an island. His resolve was soon fixed and 
declared to his fellows. He had taken the desperate determination ot 
shutting up his own band on that narrow sand bar, cutting off all re- 
treat, and there fighting it out to the death. Slowly and stealthily, 
therefore, the canoes were paddled to the island. Not a sound was 
heard. The flames of the camp fire had burned low, serving only to 
mark the position of the doomed gang. 

Now all the canoes, their own as well as those of the Indians, were 
set adrift, and then, with bated breath and with rifle in hand and toma- 






The Revenge of Colonel John Moredock. 635 

hawk clenched tightly, the scouts, led by Moredock, with gleaming eye 
and compressed lips, glided silently nearer and nearer, making no more 
noise than would their own shadows. Were there none to warn the 
poor victims of the terrible fate approaching ? None whatever. Two 
or three of the startled savages caught the rustle of a leaf, a breaking 
of a twig, and their glittering eyes roved around the walls of encircling 
darkness, and their acute, practiced ears were stretched forward in an 
attitude of intense watchfulness. 

Now is the long delayed moment. A low cluck from the mouth of 
Moredock gives the signal, and half a dozen savages received in their 
bodies the unerring leaden messengers. But savages may be surprised, 
but do not easily become panic-stricken. They are ever on the look- 
out for just such surprises, and when one comes they know well what 
to do. One moment and they are on their feet; the next they turned 
sullenly to meet the unknown foe, which now, with hideous uproar and 
long bounds, leaped in upon them. 

The conflict was long, fierce and obstinate, but the savages had been 
taken at a fearful disadvantage, and were compelled to retreat and fight 
their way to their boats. A cry of despairful rage went up as they 
found all means of escape removed, and grimly and sullenly they stood 
at bay, fighting with desperate courage until all were killed but three, 
who plunged boldly into the stream, and, aided by the darkness, suc- 
ceeded in making good their escape. 

No less than twenty-seven of the gang at the Grand Tower massacre 
were now still in death. Only three had escaped from the island 
slaughter, but while these lived John Moredock could not rest. His re- 
venge was not entirely glutted till the last had paid blood for blood, 
but all this might require long time and weary wanderings. They must, 
therefore, perish by his own hand. Dismissing his faithful band, and 
having learned from one of the wounded savages the nearest probable 
resorts of those who had escaped, he commenced to track them along. 
Tireless and unswerving as the sleuth-hound, he followed his prey 
across rivers, over hills and around prairies. Had the wretches known 
that the avenger of blood was on their trail they would have put oceans 
between them and their deadly foe. 

Relentlessly and without intermission did Moredock pursue his pur- 
pose. His passion, however, was as quiet as it was deep and absorb- 
ing. Few even of his acquaintance knew the motive for his long and 
ceaseless journeyings to and fro, from Green Bay to the Ohio, and often 
far across the Mississippi. 

At length, after two years of restless wandering, he quietly arrived at 
Kaskaskia and settled down to a quiet life. His terrible task had been 



636 Our Western Border. 

accomplished. The scalp of the very last of his family's ruthless mur- 
derers hung at his girdle. 

But, alas ! John Moredock could not rest. His absorbing passion 
had taken utter and entire possession of his being. Revenge had be- 
come the ruling mania of his life. Although he no longer devoted all 
his time and energies to Indian tracking and killing, his hatred for the 
whole red race never once relaxed. A redskin was to him what a red 
flag was to a bull. He married, had children, held many public offices 
in Illinois; was promoted to a Colonelcy, and died at the age of sixty; 
but he never spared the life of a redskin when in his power, or re- 
frained from inflicting an injury on one when he could. 

And yet this man was known to his own color as a mild, gentle, 
peaceable person, fond of domestic quiet and averse to strife. There 
were many like him on the western border, and from precisely the same 
cause. 






THRILLING ADVENTURE OF AUDUBON, THE NATURALIST. 

On my return from the Upper Mississippi, I found myself obliged to 
cross one of the wide prairies, which in that portion of the United 
States vary the appearance of the country. The weather was fine ; all 
around me was as fresh and blooming as if it had just issued from the 
bosom of nature. My knapsack, my gun and my dog were all I had 
for baggage and company. But, although well moccasined, I moved 
slowly along, attracted by the brilliancy of the flowers and the gambols 
of the fawns around their dams, to all appearance as thoughtless of 
danger as I felt myself. 

My march was of long duration. I saw the sun sink beneath the 
horizon long before I could perceive any appearance of woodland, and 
nothing in the shape of man had I met with that day. The track which 
I followed was only an old Indian trace ; and as darkness overshadowed 
the prairie, I felt some desire to reach at least a copse, in which I might 
lie down to rest. The nighthawks were skimming over and around me, 
attracted by the buzzing wings of the beetles, which form their food, 
and the distant howling of wolves gave me some hope that I should 
soon arrive at the skirts of some woodland. I did so, and at almost 
the same instant, a fire-light attracting my eye, I moved towards it, full 
of confidence that it proceeded from the camp of some wandering In- 
dians. I was mistaken. I discovered from its glare, that it was from 



Thrilling Adventure of Audubon, the Naturalist. 637 

the hearth of a small log cabin, and that a tall figure passed and repassed 
between it and me, as if busily engaged in household arrangements. 

I reached the spot, and, presenting myself at the door, asked the tall 
figure, which proved to be a woman, if I might take shelter under her 
roof during the night. Her voice was gruff, and her attire negligently 
thrown about her. She answered in the affirmative. I walked in, took 
a wooden stool and quietly seated myself by the fire. The next object 
that attracted my notice was a finely formed young Indian, resting his 
head between his hands, with his elbows on his knees. A long bow 
rested against the log wall near him, while a quantity of arrows and 
two or three raccoon skins lay at his feet. He moved not; he appa- 
rently breathed not. Accustomed to the habits of Indians, and know- 
ing that they pay but little attention to the movements of civilized 
strangers, I addressed him in French, a language not unfrequently par- 
tially known to the people in that neighborhood. He raised his head, 
pointed to one of his eyes with his finger, and gave me a significant 
glance with the other. His face was covered with blood. The fact 
was, that an hour before this, as he was in the act of discharging an 
arrow at a raccoon in the top of a tree, the arrow had split upon the 
cord, and sprung back with such violence into his right eye as to destroy 
it forever. 

Feeling hungry, I inquired what sort of fare I might expect. Such 
a thing as a bed was not to be seen, but many large untanned bear and 
buffalo hides lay piled in a corner. I drew a fine timepiece from my 
breast, and told the woman that it was late, and that I was fatigued. 
She had espied my watch, the richness of which seemed to operate upon 
her feelings with electric quickness. She told me that there was plenty 
of venison and jerked buffalo meat, and that on removing the ashes I 
should find a cake. But my watch had struck her fancy, and her curi- 
osity had to be gratified by an immediate sight of it. I took off the 
gold chain that secured it from around my neck and handed it to her. 
She was all ecstacy, spoke of its beauty, asked me its value, and put the 
chain round her brawny neck, saying how happy the possession of such 
a watch would make her. Thoughtless, and as I fancied myself in so 
retired a spot, secure, I paid little attention to her talk or her move- 
ments. I helped my dog to a good supper of venison, and was not 
long in satisfying the demands of my own appetite. The Indian rose 
from his seat as if in extreme suffering. He passed and repassed me 
several times, and once pinched me on the side so violently that the 
pain nearly brought forth an exclamation of anger. I looked at him; 
his eye met mine; but his look was so forbidding that it struck a chill 
into the more nervous part of my system. He again seated himself, 



638 



Our Western Border. 



drew his butcher knife from its greasy scabbard, examined its edge as I 
would do that of a razor suspected dull, replaced it, and taking his 
tomahawk from his back, filled the pipe of it with tobacco, and sent 
me expressive glances whenever our hostess chanced to have her back 
towards us. 

Never until that moment had my senses been wakened to the danger 
which I now suspected to be about me. I returned glance for glance 
to my companion, and rested well assured that whatever enemies I might 
have, he was not of their number. I asked the woman for my watch, 
wound it up, and, under pretence of wishing to see how the weather 
might probably be on the morning, took up my gun and walked out of 
the cabin. I slipped a ball into each barrel, scraped the edges of my 
flints^ renewed the priming, and returning to the hut, gave a favorable 
account of my observations. I took a few bear skins, made a pallet of 
them, and calling my faithful dog to my side, lay down with my gun 
close to my body, and in a few minutes, to all appearance, was fast 
asleep. 

A short time had elapsed when some voices were t heard, and from 
the corners of my eyes I saw two athletic young men making their en- 
trance, bearing a dead stag upon a pole. They disposed of their bur- 
den, and asking for whiskey, helped themselves freely to it. Observing 
me and the wounded Indian, they asked who I was, and why the devil 
that rascal (meaning the Indian, who, they knew, understood not a word 
of English) was in the house. The mother — for so $he proved to be — 
bade them speak less loudly, made mention of my watch, and took 
them to a corner, where a conversation ensued, the purport of which it 
required little shrewdness in me to guess. I felt that he perceived dan- 
ger in my situation. The Indian exchanged a last glance with me. 

The young men had eaten and drunk themselves into such a condi- 
tion, that I already looked upon them as hors de combat ; and the fre- 
quent visits of the whiskey bottle to the ugly mouth of their dam, I 
hoped, would soon reduce her to a like state. Judge of my astonish- 
ment, when I saw this incarnate fiend take a large carving knife and go 
to the grindstone to whet its edge. I saw her pour the water on the 
turning machine, and watched her working away with the dangerous 
instrument, until the sweat covered every part of my body, in despite 
of my determination to defend myself to the last. Her task finished, 
she walked to her reeling sons and said, ll There, that'll soon settle him ! 
Boys, kill you — and then for the watch." 

I turned, cocked my gun locks silently, touched my faithful compan- 
ion, and lay ready to start up and shoot the first who might attempt 
my life. The moment was fast approaching, and that night might have 



Ogilvie's Adventure. 639 

been my last in this world, had not Providence made preparations for 
my rescue. All was ready. The infernal hag was advancing slowly, 
probably contemplating the best way of dispatching me, while her sons 
should be engaged with the Indian. I was several times on the eve of 
rising and shooting her on the spot, but she was not to be punished 
thus. The door suddenly opened, and there entered two stout travelers, 
each with a long rifle on his shoulder. I bounced up on my feet, and 
making them most heartily welcome, told them how well it was for me 
that they should arrive at that moment. The tale was told in a minute. 
The drunken sons were secured, and the woman, in spite of her defence 
and vociferations, shared the same fate. The Indian fairly danced for 
joy, and gave us to understand that as he could not sleep for pain, he 
would watch over us. You may suppose that we slept much less than 
we talked. The two strangers gave me an account of their once hav- 
ing been in a somewhat similar situation. Day came, fair and rosy, 
and with it the punishment of our captives. 

They were now quite sober. Their feet were unbound, but their 
arms were still securely tied. We marched them into the woods off the 
road, and having used them as Regulators were wont to use such delin- 
quents, we set fire to the cabin, gave all the skins and implements to 
the young Indian warrior, and proceeded, well pleased, towards the 
settlements. 

Ogilvie's Adventure — One Contrary to the Above. 

Mr. Ogilvie, once well known in Virginia as a supporter of the God- 
win ian philosophy, conceiving a vehement desire to see the western 
country, at that time newly settled, set off from Richmond for Lexing- 
ton, in Kentucky. It was in the month of October, after a most lonely 
and wearisome day's ride that, a little before sunset, he came to a small 
cabin on the road, and fearing he should find no other opportunity of 
procuring refreshment for himself and his jaded horse, he stopped and 
inquired if he could be accommodated for the night. An old woman, 
the only person he saw, civilly answering him in the affirmative, he 
gladly alighted, and going in to a tolerable fire, enjoyed the luxury of 
rest, while his hostess was discharging the duties of hostler and cook. 
In no long time, she set before him a supper of comfortable but homely 
fare, of which having liberally partaken, and given divers significant 
nods, the old woman remarked, she "expected" he "chose bed," and 
pointing to one which stood in the corner of the room, immediately 
went into the yard a while to give him an opportunity of undressing. 

Before he had been long in bed, and while he was congratulating 



640 Our Western Border. 

himself on his good fortune, the latch of the door was drawn, and there 
entered a dark-looking man, of gigantic stature and form, with stiff, 
black hair, eyebrows and beard. He was apparently about eight and 
twenty, was dressed in a hunting shirt, which partly concealed a pair of 
dirty buckskin overalls, and he wore moccasins of the same material. 
Mr. Ogilvie thought he had never seen anything half so ferocious. As, 
soon as this man entered the room, his mother, for so she proved to be, 
pointing to the bed, motioned him to make no noise ; on which, with 
inaudible steps, he walked to the chimney, put up his gun on a rude 
rack provided for that and other arms, and sat softly down to the fire, 
then throwing a bright blaze around the room. 

Our traveler, not liking the looks of the new comer and not caring to 
be teased by conversation, drew his head under the bed clothes, so that 
he could see what was passing without leaving his own face visible. The 
two soon entered into conversation, but in so low a voice that Mr. Ogil- 
vie could not distinguish what was said. His powers of attention were 
wrought up to the most painful pitch of intensity. At length the man, 
looking toward the bed, made some remark to his mother, to which Mr. 
Ogilvie heard her reply, "No, I hardly think he's asleep yet;" and 
they again conversed in a low voice as before. After a short interval, 
while the man sat with his feet stretched out towards the fire, on which 
he was intently gazing, he was heard to say : 

" Don't you think he's asleep now? " 

" Stop," says she, " I'll go and see ; " and moving near the bed, un- 
der the pretext of taking something from a small table, she approached 
so near as to see the face of our traveler, whose eyes were, indeed, 
closed, but who was anything but asleep. 

On her return to the fire-place, she said, " Yes, he's asleep now." 

On this the mountaineer, rising from his stool, reached up to the rack, 
and taking down with his right hand an old greasy cutlass, walked with 
the same noiseless step towards the traveler's bed, and stretching out the 
other hand, at the moment that Mr. Ogilvie was about to implore his 
pity, took down a venison ham, which hung on the wall near the head 
of the bed, walked softly back to the fire and began to slice some 
pieces for his supper, and Mr. Ogilvie, who lay more dead than alive, 
and whose romantic fancy heightened the terrors of all he saw, had the 
unspeakable gratification to find that these kind-hearted children of the , 
forest had been talking low, and that the hungry hunter, who had eaten 
nothing since morning, had forborne making a noise, lest they should in- 
terrupt the slumbers of their way-worn guest. The next day Mr. Ogilvie, 
who was an enthusiast in physiognomy, discovered remarkable benevolence 
in the features of the hunter, which, by the false and deceitful glare of the 



Obstinate Combat of Higgins, the Ranger. 641 

fire light, had escaped him; and in his recital of this adventure, which 
furnished him with a favorite occasion of exercising his powers of de- 
clamation to great advantage in a matter of real life, he often declared 
that he had never taken a more refreshing night's rest, or made a more 
grateful repast, than he had done in this humble cabin. 



OBSTINATE COMBAT OF HIGGINS, THE RANGER, 

Thomas Higgins, a native Kentuckian, in the war of 1812, enlisted in a 
company of rangers, and was stationed, in the Summer of 181 4, in a 
block-house or station eight miles south of Greenville, in what is now 
Bond county, Illinois. On the evening of the 30th of August, a small 
party of Indians having been seen prowling about the station, Lieuten- 
ant Journay with all his men, twelve only in number, sallied forth the 
next morning, just before daylight, in pursuit of them. They had not 
proceeded far on the border of the prairie before they were in an am- 
buscade of seventy or eighty savages. At the first fire the Lieutenant 
and three of his men were killed. Six fled to the fort under cover of the 
smoke, for the morning was sultry and the air being damp the smoke 
from the guns hung like a cloud over the scene ; but Higgins remained 
behind, to have "one more pull at the enemy " and avenge the death of 
his companions. 

He sprang behind a small elm, scarcely sufficient to protect his body, 
when, the smoke partly rising, discovered to him a number of Indians, 
upon which he fired and shot down the foremost one. Concealed still 
by the smoke, Higgins reloaded, mounted his horse and turned to fly, 
when a voice, apparently from the grass, hailed him with: "Tom, you 
won't leave me, will you?" He turned immediately around and seeing 
a fellow soldier by the name of Burgess lying on the ground wounded 
and gasping for breath, replied: "No, I'll not leave you — come 
along." "I can't come," said Burgess; "my leg is all mashed to 
pieces." Higgins dismounted, and taking up his friend, whose ankle 
had been broken, was about to lift him on his horse, when the animal 
taking fright, darted off in an instant, and left them both behind. 
"This is too bad," said Higgins ; " but don't fear; you hop off on your 
three legs, and I'll stay behind between you and the Indians and keep 
them off. Get into the tallest grass and crawl as near the ground as 
possible." Burgess did so and escaped. 

The smoke which had hitherto concealed Higgins now cleared awav, 
41 



642 Our Western Border. 

and he resolved, if possible, to retreat. To follow the track of Burgess 
was most expedient. It would, however, endanger his friend. He de- 
termined, therefore, to venture boldly forward, and, if discovered, to 
secure his own safety by the rapidity of his flight. On leaving a small 
thicket, in which he had sought refuge, he discovered a tall, portly sav- 
age near by, and two others in a direction between him and the fort. 
He paused for a moment and thought if he could separate and fight 
them singly, his case was not so desperate. He started, therefore, for 
a little rivulet near, but found one of his limbs failing him — it having 
been struck by a ball in the first encounter, of which, till now, he was 
scarcely conscious. The largest Indian pressed close upon him, and 
Higgins turned round two or three times in order to fire. 

The Indian halted and danced about to prevent his taking aim. He 
saw it was unsafe to fire at random, and perceiving two others approach- 
ing, knew he must be overpowered in a moment, unless he could dis- 
pose of the forward Indian first. He resolved, therefore, to halt and 
receive his fire. The Indian raised his rifle, and Higgins, watching his 
eye, turned suddenly, as his finger pressed the trigger, and received the 
ball in his thigh. He fell, but rose immediately and ran. The fore- 
most Indian, now certain of his prey, loaded again, and with the other 
two pressed on. They overtook him — he fell again, and as he rose the 
whole three fired, and he received all their balls. He now fell and rose 
a third time; and the Indians, throwing away their guns, advanced upon 
him with spears and knives. As he presented his gun at one or the other, 
each fell back. At last the largest Indian, supposing his gun to be empty 
from his fire having been thus reserved, advanced boldly to the charge. 
Higgins fired and the savage fell. 

He had now four bullets in his body-^-an empty gun in his hand — 
two Indians unharmed as yet before him, and a whole tribe but a few 
yards distant. Any other man would have despaired. Not so with 
him. He had slain the most dangerous of the three, and having little 
to fear from the others, began to load his rifle. They raised a savage 
whoop and rushed to the encounter. A bloody conflict now ensued. 
The Indians stabbed him in several places. Their spears, however, were 
but thin poles, hastily prepared, and bent whenever they struck a rib 
or a muscle. The wounds they made were not, therefore, deep, though 
numerous. 

At last one of them threw his tomahawk. It struck him upon the 
cheek, severed his ear, laid bare his skull to the back of his head, and 
stretched him upon the prairie. The Indians again rushed on; but 
Higgins, recovering his self-possession, kept them off with his feet and 
hands. Grasping, at length, one of their spears, the Indian, in attempt- 



Obstinate Combat of Higgins, the Ranger. 643 

ing to pull it from him, raised Higgins up, who, taking his rifle, dashed 
out the brains of the nearest savage. In doing so, however, it broke 
— the barrel only remaining in his hand. The other Indian, who had, 
heretofore, fought with caution, came now manfully into the battle. 
His character as a warrior was in jeopardy. To have fled from a man 
thus wounded and disarmed, or to have suffered his victim to escape, 
would have tarnished his fame forever. Uttering, therefore, a terrific 
yell, he rushed on and attempted to stab the exhausted ranger, but the 
latter warded off his blow with one hand and brandished his rifle - 
barrel with the other. The Indian was as yet unharmed, and, under ex- 
isting circumstances, by far the most powerful man. Higgins' courage, 
however, was unexhausted and inexhaustible. The savage, at last, be- 
gan to retreat from the glare of his untamed eye, to the spot where he 
dropped his rifle. Higgins knew that if he recovered that his own case 
was desperate; throwing, therefore, his rifle-barrel aside, and drawing 
his hunting knife, he rushed upon his foe. A desperate strife ensued 
— -deep gashes were inflicted on both sides. Higgins, fatigued and ex- 
hausted by the loss of blood, was no longer a match for the savage. 
The latter succeeded in throwing his adversary from him, and went im- 
mediately in pursuit of his rifle. Higgins, at the same time, rose and 
sought for the gun of the other Indian. Both, therefore, bleeding and 
out of breath, were in search of arms to renew the combat. 

The smoke had now passed away, and a large number of Indians 
were in view. Nothing, it would seem, could now save the gallant 
ranger. There was, however, an eye to pity and an arm to save — and 
that arm was a woman's ! The little garrison had witnessed the whole 
combat. It consisted of but six men and one woman: that woman, 
however, was a host — a Mrs. Pursley. When she saw Higgins contend- 
ing, single-handed, with a whole tribe of savages, she urged the rangers 
to attempt his rescue. The rangers objected, as the Indians were ten to 
one. Mrs. Pursley, therefore, snatched a rifle from her husband's hand, 
and declaring that "so fine a fellow as Tom Higgins should not be lost 
for want of help," mounted a horse and sallied forth to his rescue. The 
men, unwilling to be outdone by a woman, followed at full gallop, 
reaching the spot where Higgins fainted and fell before the Indians 
came up, and while the savage with whom he had been engaged was 
looking for his rifle, his friends lifted the wounded ranger up, and 
throwing him across a horse before one of the party, reached the fort 
in safety. 

Higgins was insensible for several days, and his life was preserved by 
continual care. His friends extracted two of the balls from his thigh ; 
two, however, yet remained, one of which gave him a good deal of pain. 



644 Our Western Border. 

Hearing, afterwards, that a physician had settled within a day's ride of 
him, he determined to go and see him. The physician asked him fifty 
dollars for the operation. This Higgins flatly refused, saying it was 
more than a half-year's pension. On reaching home he found the ex- 
ercise of riding had made the ball discernible; he requested his wife, 
therefore, to hand him his razor. With her assistance he laid open his 
thigh until the edge of the razor touched the bullet, then, inserting his 
two thumbs into the gash, "he flirted it out," as he used to say, "with- 
out costing him a cent." The other ball yet remained; it gave him, 
however, but little pain, and he carried it with him to his grave. Hig- 
gins died in Fayette county, Illinois, a few years since. He was the 
most perfect specimen of a frontierman in his day, and was once assist- 
ant doorkeeper of the House of Representatives in Illinois. The facts 
above stated are familiar to many, to whom Higgins was personally 
known, and there is no doubt of their correctness. 



COLTER'S FAMOUS RACE FOR LIFE. 

On the arrival of the exploratory party of Lewis and Clark at the 
head waters of the Missouri, Colter, one of the guides, obtained per- 
mission for himself and another hunter by the name of Potts to remain 
awhile and hunt for beaver. Aware of the hostility of the Blackfoot 
Indians, one of whom had been killed by Lewis, they set their traps at 
night and took them up early in the morning, remaining concealed 
during the day. 

They were examining their traps early one morning, in a creek which 
they were ascending in a canoe, when they suddenly heard a great 
noise resembling the tramp of animals ; but they could not ascertain 
the fact, as the high, perpendicular banks on each side of the river im- 
peded their view. Colter immediately pronounced it to be occasioned 
by Indians, and advised an instant retreat, but was accused of cowardice 
by Potts, who insisted the noise was occasioned by buffaloes, and they 
proceeded on. In a few minutes afterwards their doubts were removed 
by the appearance of about five or six hundred Indians on both sides 
of the creek, who beckoned them to come ashore. As retreat was now 
impossible, Colter turned the head of the canoe to the shore, and at 
the moment of its touching, an Indian seized the rifle belonging to 
Potts ; but Colter, who was a remarkably strong man, immediately re- 
took it and handed it to Potts, who remained in the canoe, and on re- 



Colter's F4MOUS Race for Life. 645 

ceiving it pushed off into the creek. He had scarcely quitted the shore 
when an arrow was shot at him, and he cried out, " Colter, I am 
wounded." Colter remonstrated with him on the folly of attempting 
to escape, and urged him to come ashore. Instead of complying he in- 
stantly leveled his rifle at an Indian and shot him dead on the spot. 
This conduct, situated as he was, may appear to have been an act of' 
madness, but it was doubtless the effect of sudden but sound enough 
reasoning; for if taken alive he must have expected to have been 
tortured to death, according to the Indian custom, and in this respect 
the Indians in this region excelled all others in the ingenuity they dis- 
played in torturing their prisoners.* He was instantly pierced with 
arrows so numerous that, to use the language of Colter, "he was made 
a riddle of." 

They now seized Colter, stripped him entirely naked, and began to 
consult on the manner in which he should be put to death. They 
were first inclined to set him up as a mark to shoot at, but the 
chief interfered, and, seizing him by the shoulder, asked him if he 
could run fast. Colter, who had been some time among the Kee 
Katsa, or Crow Indians, had, in a considerable degree, acquired the 
Blackfoot language, and was also well acquainted with Indian customs, 
He knew that he had now to run for his life, with the dreadful odds of 



* The Flathead Indians, who reside in Oregon, and the Blackfoot tribe, who hunt at the eastern 
base of the Rocky Mountains, are almost continually at war with each other. An English traveler, 
who remained a considerable time among the former, has given a description of the method of tor- 
turing their prisoners. A chief of the Blackfoot tribe having been taken captive in one of their 
wars, was condemned to death; and the Englishman repaired to camp to witness the frightful 
spectacle. The prisoner was fastened to a tree. The Flatheads, after heating an old gun-barrel red- 
hot, burnt with it, successively, his legs, thighs, stomach, cheeks and belly ; and then cut the flesh 
around his nails, which they tore out ; and afterwards cut off his fingers joint by joint. During this 
horrible torment the prisoner did not shrink in the least, nor testify the slightest emotion. Instead 
of crying for mercy and uttering groans, he endeavored to excite the barbarous ingenuity of his 
executioners by taunts and the most insulting reproaches. One of the Flatheads rushed upon him, 
and in an instant, with his knife, scooped out one of his eyes and clove his nose in two. But the 
poor fellow did not desist from his provocations. "I killed your brother," he cried. "I tore 
off the grey scalp of your father." The warrior to whom he spoke again rushed upon him and 
tore off his scalp, and was about to plunge a knife into his heart when the voice of his chief for- 
bade him. 

With his naked skull, his cloven nose, and the blood streaming from the socket of his eye, the in- 
trepid Blackfoot offered a hideous spectacle, notwithstanding which, in this terrible condition, he 
continued to heap reproaches and outrageous insults upon his foes. " It was I," said he to the chief, 
•« who took your wife prisoner ! We tore out her eyes and tongue ! We treated her like a dog ! 

Forty of our young warriors" He had not time to finish what he was going to say, for, at the 

mention of his wife, the fury of the chief broke through all bounds, and seizing his rifle he put an 
end at once to the insults which he, the prisoner, uttered, and the sufferings he endured. These 
cruelties were even surpassed by those that were exercised on the female prisoners ; and it musi 
Le owned that the Flathead women showed a more fiendish barbarity than the men. The details 
of the toriurtiS wh.cn they iu.iicted are too horrible to be described, save with a pen dipreo. in 
biood. 



646 



Our Western Border. 



five or six hundred against him, and these armed Indians ; he therefore 
cunningly replied that he was a very bad runner, although, in truth, he 
was considered by the hunters as remarkably swift. 

The chief now commanded the party to remain stationary, and led 
Colter out on the prairie three or four hundred yards and released him, 
bidding him to save himself if he could. At that instant the war whoop 
sounded in the ears of poor Colter, who, urged with the hope of pre- 
serving life, ran with a speed at which he himself was surprised. He 
proceeded towards Jefferson's Fork, having to traverse a plain six miles 
in breadth, abounding with the prickly pear, on which he every instant 
was treading with his naked feet. He ran nearly half-way across the 
plain before he ventured to look over his shoulder, when he perceived 
that the Indians were very much scattered, and that he had gained 
ground to a considerable distance from the main body ; but one Indian, 
who carried a spear, was much before all the rest, and not more than a 
hundred yards from him. 

A faint gleam of hope now cheered the heart of Colter ; he derived 
confidence from the belief that escape was within the bounds of possi- 
bility, but that confidence was nearly fatal to him, for he exerted him- 
self to such a degree that the blood gushed from his nostrils, and soon 
almost covered the forepart of his body. He had now arrived within 
a mile of the river, when he distinctly heard the appalling sounds of 
footsteps behind him, and every instant expected to feel the spear of 
his pursuer. Again he turned his head and saw the savage not twenty 
yards from him. Determined, if possible, to avoid the expected blow, 
he suddenly stopped, turned around and spread out his arms. The In- 
dian, surprised at the suddenness of the action, and perhaps at the 
bloody appearance of Colter, also attempted to stop ; but, exhausted 
with running, he fell while attempting to throw his spear, which stuck 
in the ground and broke in his hand. Colter instantly snatched up the 
pointed part, with which he pinned him to the earth, and then con- 
tinued his flight. 

The foremost of the Indians, on arriving at the place, stopped until 
others came up to join them, and then gave a hideous yell. Every mo- 
ment of this time was improved by Colter, who, although fainting and 
exhausted, succeeded in gaining the skirting of the cotton-wood trees 
on the borders of the Fork, to which he ran and plunged into the river. 
Fortunately for him, a little below this place was an island, against the 
upper point of which a raft of drift timber had lodged; he dived under 
the raft, and, after several efforts, got his head above water, among the 
trunks of trees covered over with smaller wood to the depth of several 
feet. Scarcely had he secured himself when the Indians arrived on the 



An Indian's Sagacity at Trailing. 647 

river, screeching and yelling, as Colter expressed it, "like so many 
devils." 

They were frequently on the raft during the day, and were seen 
through the chinks by Colter, who was congratulating himself on his 
escape, until the idea arose that they might set the raft on fire. In hor- 
rible suspense he remained until night, when, hearing no more from 
the Indians, he dived from under the raft and swam instantly down the 
river to a considerable distance, when he landed and traveled all night. 
Although happy in having escaped from the Indians, his situation was 
still dreadful; he was completely naked, under a burning sun; the soles 
of his feet were filled with the thorns of the prickly pear; he was hun- 
gry and had no means of killing game, although he saw abundance 
around him, and was at a great distance from the nearest settlement. 
Almost any man but an American hunter would have despaired under 
such circumstances. The fortitude of Colter remained unshaken. 
After seven days' sore travel, during which he had no other sustenance 
than the root known by naturalists under the name of psoralea escu- 
lenta, he at length arrived in safety at Lisa's Fort, on the Big Horn 
branch of the Roche Jaune or Yellow Stone river. 



AN INDIAN'S SAGACITY AT TRAILING. 

Heckewelder, in his Historical Account of the Indians, when speak- 
ing of their manner of surprising their enemies, relates a striking anec- 
dote, by way of exemplification of the Indian's sagacity as well as ve- 
racity: "In the beginning," says he, "of the Summer of 1755, a most 
atrocious murder was unexpectedly committed by a party of Indians 
on fourteen white settlers, within five or six miles of Shamokin, Pa. 
The surviving whites, in their rage, determined to take their revenge 
by murdering a Delaware Indian who happened to be in those parts, 
and was far from thinking himself in danger. He was a great friend to 
the whites, was loved and esteemed by them, and in testimony of their re- 
gard, had received from them the name of Luke Holland, by which he 
was generally known. The Indian told the enraged settlers that the Dela- 
wares were not in any manner concerned in it, and that it was the act 
of some wicked Mingoes or Iroquois, whose custom it was to involve 
other nations in wars with each other by clandestinely committing mur- 
ders, so that they might be laid to the charge of others than themselves. 



648 Our Western Border. 

But all his representations were vain; he could not convince exasperated 
men whose minds were fully bent upon revenge. 

"At last, he offered that if they would give him a party to accompany 
him, he would go with them in quest of the murderers, and was sure he 
could discover them by the prints of their feet and other marks well 
known to him, by which he would convince them that the real perpe- 
trators of the crime belonged to the Six Nations. His proposal was 
accepted; he marched at the head of a party of whites, and led them 
into the tracks. They soon found themselves in the most rocky parts 
of the mountain, where not one of those who accompanied him was 
able to discover a single track, nor would they believe that ever a man 
had trodden on this ground, as they had to jump over a number of 
crevices between the rocks, and in some instances to crawl over them. 
Now they began to believe that the Indian had led them across those 
rugged mountains in order to give the enemy time to escape, and 
threatened him with instant death the moment they should be fully con- 
vinced of the fraud. The Indian, true to his promise, would take pains 
to make them perceive that an enemy had passed along the places 
through which he was leading them; here he would show them that the 
moss on the rock had been trodden down by the weight of a human 
foot ; there that it had been torn and dragged forward from its place : 
further, he would point out to them that pebbles or small stones on the 
rocks had been removed from their beds by the foot hitting against 
them; that dry sticks, by being trodden upon, were broken, and even 
that, in a particular place, an Indian's blanket had dragged over the 
rocks and removed or loosened the leaves lying there, so that they lay 
no more flat, as in other places; all which the Indian could perceive as 
he walked along, without ever stopping. 

"At last, arriving at the foot of the mountain, on soft ground, where 
the tracks were deep, he found out the enemy were eight in number, 
and, from the freshness of the footprints, he concluded that they must 
be encamped at no great distance. This proved to be the exact truth, 
for, after gaining the eminence on the other side of the valley, the In- 
dians were seen encamped, some having laid down to sleep, while others 
were drawing off their leggins for the same purpose, and the scalps 
they had taken were hanged up to dry. ' See !' said Luke Holland to 
his astonished companions, < there is the enemy ! not of my nation, but 
Mingoes, as I truly tell you. They are in our power; in less than half 
an hour they will all be fast asleep. We need not fire a gun, but go up 
and tomahawk them. We are nearly two to one, and need apprehend 
no danger. Come on, and you will now have your full revenge !' 
But the whites did not choose to follow the Indian's advice, and urged 



Bell's Deadly Conflict with Three Savages. 649 

him to take them back by the nearest and best way, which he did, and 
when they arrived at home, late at night, they reported the number of 
the Iroquois to have been so great that they durst not venture to attack 
them." 



BELL'S DEADLY CONFLICT WITH THREE SAVAGES. 

Among the many achievements, says Loudon, against the Indians in 
our wars with them, few exceed that performed by Samuel Bell, for- 
merly owner of the noted farm on the Stony Ridge, five miles below Car- 
lisle, Pa., which was as follows: Some time after General Braddock's 
defeat, he and his brother James agreed to go into Sherman's valley to 
hunt for deer, and were to meet at Croghan's, now Sterret's Gap, on 
the Blue Mountain. By some means or other they did not meet, and 
Samuel slept all night in a cabin on Sherman's Creek. In the morning 
he had not traveled far before he spied three Indians, who at the same time 
saw him ; they all fired at each other ; he wounded one of the Indians, 
but received no damage, except through his clothes, by the balls ; sev- 
eral shots were fired on both sides, for each took a tree. Bell took out 
his tomahawk and stuck it into the tree behind which he stood, so that 
should they approach he might be prepared j the tree was grazed with 
the Indians' balls, and he had thoughts of making his escape by flight, 
but on reflection had doubts of his being able to outrun them. After 
some time the two Indians took the wounded one and put him over a 
fence, and one took one course and the other another, taking a circuit so 
that Bell could no longer secure himself by the tree ; but by trying to 
ensnare him they had to expose themselves, by which means he had the 
good fortune to shoot one of them dead ; the other ran and took the 
dead Indian on his back, one leg over each shoulder. By this time Bell's 
gun was again loaded; he then ran after the Indian until he came within 
about four yards from him, fired, and shot through the dead Indian, 
and lodged his ball in the other, who dropped the dead man and ran 
off. On his return, coming past the fence where the wounded Indian 
was, he dispatched him, but did not know he had killed the third In- 
dian until his bones were found afterwards. 



650 



Our Western Border. 



WESTERN EMIGRATION— ODD SCENES— PACK-HORSES. 



At the end of the Revolution there was no commerce, but little cloth- 
ing and only wretched rag money, so depreciated that when one went 
to buy, the money would almost occupy more room than what it pur- 
chased. Hard as was the fate of the soldier while starving, freezing or 
fighting for independence, peace found him little better off. Many sank 
or became utterly vicious and worthless under their discouragement, but 
others migrated to the West as offering the only chance for a livelihood 
to them and theirs. The journey was long and full of perils. They 
generally came west by Braddock's road from Virginia, or by Bedford, 
Pa. Striking the Monongahela river at Redstone, now Brownsville, 
Pa., they would take boats to points along the Ohio. 

Judge Wilkeson, of Buffalo, was one of a family of twenty who em- 
igrated, in 1784, from Carlisle to Chartiers Creek, a few miles west of 
Fort Pitt, and gives a very instructive and entertaining account of the 
hardships and privations of emigrants. We select a few incidents. The 
paths across the mountains were so rough and impracticable, that pack- 
horses were the only means of transportation; on some were packed the 
stores and agricultural implements; on others the furniture, bedding 
and cooking utensils, and on others the women and children. Horses 
which carried small children were each provided with a pack-saddle and 
two large creels, made of hickory withes in the fashion of a crate, one 
over each side, in which were stowed clothes and bedding. In the 
centre of each would be also tucked a child or two, the top being well se- 
cured by lacing, so as to keep the youngsters in their places. The 
roads frequently were barely passable ; sometimes lying along the brink 
of precipices ; frequently overflown in places by swollen streams, all of 
which had to be forded ; horses slipping, falling and carried away, both 
women and children being in great danger. 

Sometimes the creels would break loose, the children falling to the 
ground and rolling off amid great confusion. Frequently mothers were 
separated for hours from their children, and long after the stopping 
places had been reached, would be obliged to gather them together, 
and then prepare the meals, thus losing the rest so much required, and 
then sleeping in the numbing, pinching cold, alongside of some icy 
stream. 

Each family was supplied with one or more cows, and thus the family 
cavalcade would slowly pursue its rugged and devious way. Many 
hair-breadth escapes were continually occurring. The men were enured 



Western Emigration. 651 

to hardships; it was the mothers and children who chiefly suffered. 
The Wilkeson family settled down on Chartiers Creek — the father ex- 
changing a horse for a tract of two hundred acres. The new comers 
aided each other in erecting rude log cabins. The family thus enclosed, 
the timber was girdled for a clearing, and, as soon as possible, corn and 
vegetables were planted; the work of clearing and planting being done 
by the whole family, and extending into the night. Now came Indian 
attacks, wholly unlooked for, since it was supposed peace with Great 
Britain would secure peace with her Indian allies. Dreadful mistake ! 
Savage marauds and incursions continued yet for many years. The 
very name of Indian chilled the blood of emigrants ; but there they 
were, and it was too late to retreat. Murders, scalpings and captivities 
were frequent. Homes and cattle had to be watched closely. The 
frequent calls on the settlers to fight or pursue Indians, or take refuge 
in stations and block-houses, was a severe tax on their time and labor. 

When horses were not stolen they would, tormented by flies, &c, 
run away, crossing rivers and taking a bee line for their old homes. 
Sometimes they would wander on one or two hundred miles before re- 
covered. When the husband was thus absent, the family would be left 
alone in the woods, surrounded by wild beasts, or, far more horrible, the 
yelling, pitiless savages. Milk was the chief dependence for food. One 
cow was always provided with a bell, and the first duty of the woman 
in the morning was to listen for the sound of her cow-bell. While she 
was absent, her children, if small, were tied in bed to prevent their 
wandering, and to guard them from danger from fire, snakes, beasts, &c. 

"A more intelligent, virtuous and resolute class of men," says Wilke- 
son, " never settled any country than the first settlers of Western Penn- 
sylvania. The women were no less worthy. The times were at fault, 
not the people. Very many were professors of religion of the Seceder 
sect. It was common for families to ride from ten to fifteen miles to 
meeting. The young people walked, and in Summer carried their shoes 
and stockings, if they had any, in their hands, both going and return- 
ing. The meetings were held, even in Winter, in the open air. A 
grove was selected, a log pulpit erected, and logs ranged on a gentle 
incline rising from the pulpit, furnished seats. Among the men, ten 
were obliged to wear a blanket or coverlet for a coat, where one pos- 
sessed that luxury. So great was the scarcity of clothing that when the 
first Court of Common Pleas was held at Catfish, now Washington, 
Pa., a certain highly-respectable citizen, whose presence was re- 
quired, could not attend court without first borrowing a pair of leather 
breeches from a neighbor, who, lending them, had himself to stay at 
home. 



652 



Our Western Border. 



" But little idea can now be formed of the ungrudging hospitality of 
the older pioneers. The increase of sheep was very slow, on account of 
wolves. Deerskin was invariably used for clothes by men and boys. 
The women had all to spin, and generally weave all the stuffs for the 
family. That they did not die from all their labors and anxieties 
was indeed a great marvel. To obtain salt and iron they had resort to 
the East. Winchester, Virginia, and Chambersburg, Pennsylvania, 
were the great salt depots. One man and some boys were chosen from 
each neighborhood to take charge of the horses. Each beast was pro- 
vided with a pack-saddle, a halter, a lashing rope, to secure the load, 
and sufficient food for twenty days — the average duration of a trip — 
part of which was left on the mountain for a return supply. A substi- 
tute for cash was found in skins, furs and ginseng. After selecting a 
Captain, the cavalcade set out on its long and adventurous journey. 
The entire return journey had to be made on foot, yet, notwithstanding 
the fatigues and hazards of the trip, all the boys who were old enough 
competed with each other to be selected for these distant excursions. 
Not only salt, but all kinds of merchandise, were brought west on pack- 
horses down to 1790. 

"In Kentucky pack-horseing was an important business down to 1795. 
The merchants provided as many horses and men as were required. 
The men were armed and organized, with officers and regulations of 
their own appointment. The expedition was conducted on strict mili- 
tary principles — the times and places for stopping settled by the officers, 
and sentries placed at night. These caravans would transport many 
tons of goods in safety, if the loads were well-balanced. About 1800 
the packers were succeeded by the still greater lions of the day — keel- 
boatmen, of whom more anon." 

Settlers in West Pennsylvania soon grew restless and excited by the 
glowing reports from Kentucky, and, as they do even to the present day, 
they sold out their improvements and migrated farther west. "Man 
never is, but always to be blest." The trade to New Orleans was like 
the trade East, attended with great hardships and hazards. The right 
bank of the Ohio, for hundreds of miles, was alive with hostile Indians. 
The voyage was performed in flatboats, and occupied from four to six 
months. Several neighbors united their means in building a boat and in 
getting up the voyage. Each put on board his own produce at his own 
risk, and one of the owners always accompanied the boat as Captain 
and Supercargo. A boat of ordinary size required about six hands. 
They returned home either by sea or more commonly through the wil- 
derness, a distance of about two thousand miles. As they generally 
carried a large quantity of specie, and the road was infested with bold 



Boating Life on the Western Waters. 653 

gangs of robbers waiting for them, large parties, numbering sometimes 
several hundred, were organized and armed. They were provided 
with mules to carry the specie and provisions, and those who preferred, 
or could afford it, rode mules or Indian ponies. Outlaws and fugitives 
from justice from the Eastern States infested this road, and many bloody 
encounters occurred. The first half of the journey was through a flat, 
unhealthy, agueish country, where there was bad water, and the spare 
mules were always loaded down with the sick. Many who survived an 
attack of fever to reach the healthy country of Tennessee, would stay 
there to recruit. 



BOATING LIFE ON THE WESTERN WATERS. 

How oft in boyhood's joyous day, 

Unmindful of the lapsing hours, 
I've loitered on my homeward way, 

By wild Ohio's banks of flowers, 
While some lone boatman from the deck 

Poured his soft numbers to that tide, 
As if to charm from storm and wreck 

The boat where all his fortunes ride. 

Then, boatman, wind that horn again, — Butler, 

Just previous to the beginning of the present century, after the set- 
tlements had become more dense on the Monongahela and on the Ohio, 
a new class sprang up in the West whose life was unique. This was the 
class of boatmen. These were a hardy, fearless set of men, who always 
kept just in advance of civilization and luxury. Many of them at first 
had been engaged in the border wars with the Indians; were bred from 
infancy amid dangers, and experienced in all the practices and arts in the 
life of a woodsman. 

The boatmen were courageous, athletic, persevering, and patient of 
privations. They traversed, in their pirogues, barges or keels, the 
longest rivers; penetrated the most remote wilderness upon their watery 
routes, and kept up a trade and intercourse between the most distant 
points. Accustomed to every species of exposure and privation, they 
despised ease and luxury. Clothed in the xostume of the wilderness, 
and armed in western style, they were always ready to exchange the 
labors of the oar for offensive or defensive war. Exposed to the double 
force of the direct and reflected rays of the sun upon the water, their 
complexion was swarthy, and often but little fairer than the Indians. 
Often, from an exposure of their bodies without shirts, their complexion, 
from the head to the waist, was the same. 



654 



Our Western Border. 



Their toils, dangers and exposure ; the moving accidents of their long 
and perilous voyages, were measurably hidden from the inhabitants who 
contemplated the boats floating by their dwellings on beautiful Spring 
mornings, when the verdant forest, the mild and delicious temperature 
of the air, the delightful azure of the sky, the fine bottom on the one 
hand and the rolling bluff on the other, the broad and smooth stream 
rolling calmly down the forest, and floating the boat gently forward, 
presented delightful images to the beholders. At such times there was no 
visible danger, or call for labor. The boat took care of itself; one of 
the hands scraped a violin, and others danced. Greetings, or rude de- 
fiances, or trials of art, or proffers of love to the girls on shore, or saucy 
messages were scattered between them and the spectators along the 
banks. The boat glided on until it disappeared behind a point of woods. 
At that moment the bugle, with which all boats were provided, struck 
up its notes in the distance, over the water. Those scenes and those 
notes, echoing from the bluffs of the beautiful Ohio, had a charm for 
the imagination which, although heard a thousand times, at all hours 
and in all positions, presented to even the most unromantic spectator the 
image of a tempting and charming youthful existence, that almost in- 
spired in his breast the wish that he, too, were a boatman. 

No wonder that the young, who were reared in the then remote re- 
gions of the West, on the banks of the great stream, with *that restless 
curiosity which is fostered by solitude and silence, looked upon the 
severe and unremitting labor of agriculture as irksome and tasteless 
compared to such life, and that they embraced every opportunity, either 
openly or covertly, to devote themselves to an employment which seemed 
so full of romance to their youthful visions. 

The boatmen, with their bodies naked to the waist, spent the long 
and tedious days traversing the '" running board," and pushing with 
their whole force against their strong setting poles firmly fixed against 
the shoulder. Thus, with their heads suspended nearly to the track on 
the running board, they propelled their freighted barge up the long and 
tedious route of the river. After a hard day's toil, at night they took 
their "fillee" or ration of whiskey, swallowed their homely supper of 
meat half burned and bread half baked, and retiring to sleep, they 
stretched themselves upon the deck, without covering, under the canopy 
of heaven, or probably enveloped in a blanket, until the steersman's 
horn called them to their morning "fillee" and their toil. 

Hard and fatiguing was the life of a boatman ; yet it was rare that 
any of them ever changed his vocation. There was a charm in the ex- 
cesses, in the frolics, and in the fightings which they anticipated at the 
end of the voyage, which cheered them on. Of weariness none would 



Mike Fink > the Last of the Keelboatmen. 655 

complain ; but rising from his hard bed by the first dawn of day, and 
reanimated by his morning draught, he was prepared to hear and obey 
the wonted order, "Stand to your poles and set off!" The boatmen 
were masters of the winding horn and the fiddle, and as the boat moved 
off from her moorings, some, to cheer their labors, or to " scare off the 
devil and secure good luck," would wind the animating blast of the 
horn, which, mingling with the sweet music of the fiddle, and reverber- 
ating along the sounding shores, greeted the solitary dwellers on the 
banks with news from New Orleans. 

Their athletic labors gave strength incredible to their muscles, which 
they were vain to exhibit, and fist-fighting was their pastime. He who 
could boast that he had never been whipped, was bound to fight 
whoever disputed his manhood. Keelboatmen and bargemen looked 
upon raftsmen and flatboatmen as their natural enemies, and a meeting 
was the prelude to a "battle-royal." They were great sticklers for 
" fair play," and whosoever was worsted in battle must abide the issue 
without assistance. 

Their arrival in port was a general jubilee, where hundreds often 
met together for diversion and frolic. Their assemblages were often 
riotous and lawless to extremes, when the civil authorities were defied 
for days together. Had their numbers increased with the population of 
the West, they would have endangered the peace of the country ; but 
the first steamboat that ascended the Ohio sounded their death-knell, 
and they have been buried in the tide, never more to rise. 

Mike Fink, the "Last of the Keelboatmen." 

Mike Fink, usually called " the last of the boatmen," was a fair 
specimen of his race. Many curious anecdotes are related of him. He 
was born in Pittsburgh. In early youth his desire to become a boatman 
was a ruling passion, which soon had its gratification. He served on 
the Ohio and Mississippi rivers as a boatman, until thrown out of em- 
ployment by the general use of steamboats. When the Ohio was too 
low for navigation, he spent most of his time at shooting matches in the 
neighborhood of Pittsburgh, and soon became famous as the best shot 
in the country. On that account he was called bang all, and hence 
frequently excluded from participating in matches for beef; for which 
exclusion he claimed and obtained for his forbearance, the fifth quarter 
of beef, as the hide and tallow are called. His usual practice was to 
sell his fifth quarter to the tavern keeper for whiskey, with which he 
treated everybody present, partaking largely himself. He became fond 
of strong drink, and could partake of a gallon in twenty-four hours 
without the effect being perceivable. 



656 



Our Western Border. 



Mike's weight was about one hundred and eighty pounds ; height 
about five feet nine inches; countenance open ; skin tanned by sun and 
rain ; form broad and very muscular, and of herculean strength and 
great activity. His language was of the half-horse and half-alligator 
dialect of the then race of boatmen. He was also a wit, and on that 
account he gained the admiration and excited the fears of all the frater- 
nity; for he usually enforced his wit with a sound drubbing, if any one 
dared to dissent by neglecting or refusing to laugh at his jokes ; for, as 
he used to say, he cracked his jokes on purpose to be laughed at in a 
good-humored way, and that no man should make light of them. As a 
consequence, Mike had always around him a chosen band of laughing 
philosophers. An eye bunged up, or a dilapidated nose or ear, was 
sure to win Mike's sympathy and favor, for he made proclamation: 
"I'm a Salt River Roarer! I'm chuck full of fight, and I love the 
wimin," &c. ; and he did, for he had a sweetheart in every port 
Among his chosen worshippers, who would fight their death for him, 
as they termed it, were Carpenter and Talbot. Each was a match for 
the other in prowess, in fight or skill in shooting, having each been 
under Mike's diligent training. 

Mike, at one time, had a woman who passed for his wife ; whether 
she was truly so, we do not know. But at any rate, the following 
anecdote is a rare instance of conjugal discipline. Some time in the 
latter part of Autumn, a few years after the close of the late war with 
Great Britain, several keelboats landed for the night near the mouth of 
the Muskingum, among which was that of Mike's. After making all 
fast, Mike was observed, just under the bank, scraping into a heap the 
dried beech leaves, which had been blown there during the day, having 
just fallen from the effects of the early Autumn frosts. To all questions 
as to what he was doing, he returned no answer, but continued at his 
work until he had piled them up as high as his head. He then sepa- 
rated them, making a sort of an oblong ring, in which he laid down, as 
if to ascertain whether it was a good bed or not. Getting up he saun- 
tered on board, hunted up his rifle, made great preparations about his 
priming, and then called, in a very impressive manner, upon his wife to 
follow him. Both proceeded up to the pile of leaves, poor "Peg" in 
a terrible flutter, as she had discovered that Mike was in no very amia- 
ble humor. 

"Get in there and lie down ! " was the command to Peg, topped off 
with one of Mike's very choicest oaths. "Now, Mr. Fink"— she al- 
ways mistered him when his blood was up — -"what have I done, I don't 
know, I'm sure — " 

" Get in there and lie down, or I'll shoot you !" with another oath. 



Mike Fink, the Last of the Keelboatmen. 657 

and drawing his rifle up to his shoulder. Poor Peg obeyed, and crawled 
into the leaf pile, and Mike covered her up with the combustibles. He 
then took a flour barrel and split the staves into fine pieces, and lighted 
them at the fire on board the boat, all the time watching the leaf pile, 
and swearing he would shoot Peg if she moved. So soon as the splin- 
ters began to blaze, he took them into his hand and deliberately set fire, 
in four different places, to the leaves that surrounded his wife. In an 
instant the whole mass was on fire, aided by a fresh wind which was 
blowing at the time, while Mike was quietly standing by enjoying the 
fun. Peg, through fear of Mike, stood it as long as she could ; but it 
soon became too hot, and she made a run for the river, her hair and 
clothing all on fire. In a few seconds she reached the water and plunged 
in, rejoicing to know she had escaped both fire and rifle so well. 
" There," said Mike, " that'll larn you not to be lookin' at them fellers 
on t'other boat." 

Mike first visited St. Louis as a keelboatman in 1 814 or '15. Among 
his shooting feats, the following are related by eye witnesses: In ascend- 
ing the Mississippi, above the Ohio, he saw a sow with a couple of pigs, 
about one hundred feet distant, on the bank. He declared, in boatman 
phrase, he wanted a pig, and took up his rifle to shoot one, but was re- 
quested not to do so. He, however, laid his rifle to his face, and as the 
boat glided along, under easy sail, he successively shot off the tail of 
each of them, close to the rump, without doing them any other harm. 
Being, on one occasion, on his boat at theJSt. Louis landing, he saw a 
negro standing on the river bank, gazing in wonder at the show about 
him. Mike took up his rifle and shot off the poor fellow's heel. He 
fell, badly wounded and crying murder. Mike was arrested and tried 
in the county court, and found guilty by a jury. His justification of 
the offence was that the fellow's heel projected too far behind, preventing 
him from wearing a genteel boot, and he wished to correct the defect. 
His particular friend, Carpenter, was also a great shot. Carpenter and 
Mike used to fill a tin cup with whiskey, and place it by turns on each 
other's heads and shoot at it with a rifle at the distance of seventy yards. 
It was always bored through, without injury to the one on whose head it 
was placed. This feat is too well authenticated to admit of question. 
It was often performed, and they liked the feat the better because it 
showed their confidence in each other. 

In 1822, Mike and his two friends, Carpenter and Talbot, engaged, 
in St. Louis, with Henry and Ashley, to go up the Missouri with them, 
in the three-fold capacity of boatmen, trappers and hunters. The first 
year a company of about sixty ascended as high as the mouth of the Yel- 
low Stone river, where they built a fort for the purposes of trade and 
42 



658 Our Western Border. 

security. From this place small detachments of men, ten or twelve in 
a company, were sent out to hunt and trap on the tributary streams of 
the Missouri and the Yellow Stone. When Winter set in, Mike and his 
company returned to a place near the mouth of the Yellow Stone ; and 
preferring to remain out of the fort, they dug a hole or cave in the 
bluff bank of the river, in which they resided during the Winter, which 
proved a warm and commodious habitation, protecting them from the 
winds and the snows. Here Mike and his friend Carpenter had a 
deadly quarrel, supposed to have been caused by a rivalry in the good 
graces of a squaw. It was, for a while, smothered by the interposition 
of friends. 

On the return of Spring the party revisited the fort, where Mike and 
Carpenter, over a cup of whiskey, revived the recollection of their past 
quarrel, but made a treaty of peace, which was to be solemnized by 
their usual trial of shooting the cup of whiskey off each other's heads. 
To determine who should have the first shot, Mike proposed that they 
should "sky (toss up) a copper," which was done, and resulted in 
Mike's favor. Carpenter seemed to be aware of Mike's unforgiving, 
treacherous disposition ; but scorning to save his life by refusing to ful- 
fill his contract, he prepared for death, and bequeathed his gun, shot 
f>ouch, powder horn, belt, pistols and wages to Talbot. Without chang- 
ing a feature, Carpenter filled the cup with whiskey to the brim. Mike 
loaded, picked the flint and leveled his rifle at the head of Carpenter, 
at the distance of sixty yards. After drawing the bead, he took down 
his rifle from his face, and smilingly said : 

" Hold your noddle steady, Carpenter ! Don't spill the whiskey — I 
shall want some presently." 

He again raised, cocked his piece, and in an instant, Carpenter fell 
and expired without a groan. Mike's ball had penetrated precisely 
through the centre of his head. He coolly set down his rifle, and ap- 
plying the muzzle to his mouth, blew the smoke out of the touch hole, 
without saying a word, keeping his eye steadily on the fallen body of 
Carpenter. His first words were : 

'? Carpenter, have you spilt the whiskey? " He was then told he 
had killed him. " It is all an accident ! " rejoined Mike, "for I took 
as fair a bead on the black spot on the cup, as ever I took on a squirrel's 
eye. How did it happen ? " He then cursed the gun, the powder, the 
bullet, and, finally, himself. 

This catastrophe, in a country where the strong arm of the law could 
not reach, passed off for an accident. Talbot determined to revenge 
the death of his friend. No opportunity offered for some months after, 
until one day Mike, in a fit of gasconading, declared that he had pur- 




Hold your noddle steady, Carpenter, or you" 11 spill the whiskey! 
Mike Fink, " Last of the Keelboatmen." 

— See page 658. 



Game and Deer Drives of the Olden Time. 659 

posely killed Carpenter, and was glad of it. Talbot instantly drew 
from his belt a pistol, bequeathed by Carpenter, and shot Mike through 
the heart ; he fell and expired without a word. Talbot also went un- 
punished, as nobody had authority or inclination to call him to account. 
In truth, he was as ferocious and dangerpus as the bear of the prairies, 
and soon after perished in attempting to swim a river. — M. Neville. 



GAME AND "DEER DRIVES" OF THE OLDEN TIME. 

8 -Deer Drives" were frequently gotten up in the western wilds by 
those who were not professed hunters, but who wished to enjoy the sport 
of killing game. A large tract of game land was surrounded by lines 
of men, with such intervals that each person could see or hear those 
next to him on either flank. The whole acted under command of a 
clever and experienced Captain and at least four subordinates, who were 
generally mounted. At a signal of horn or trumpet, every man ad- 
vanced in line towards a common centre, preserving an equal distance 
from those on either hand, and making as great a din as possible. From 
the middle of each side of the exterior line a "blazed" line of trees 
was previously marked to the centre as a "guide," and one of the sub- 
officers proceeded along each "guide" as the hunt progressed. 

About a half or three-quarters of a mile from the central point a 
ring of "blazed" trees was made, and a similar one at the ground of 
meeting, with a diameter at least equal to the greatest rifle ranges. On 
arriving at the first ring the advancing lines halted, till the Captain made 
a circuit and saw all the men equally distributed and every gap closed. 

By this time a herd of deer might occasionally be seen careering in 
affright from one line to another. At the signal the ranks moved for- 
ward from the first to the second ring, which was generally drawn 
around the foot of an eminence, on the margin of an open lake or 
swamp. Here, if the "drive" had been successful, great numbers of 
turkeys could now be seen flying among the trees with great tumult; 
deer, in herds, sweeping around the ring under an incessant rambling 
fire, panting and exhausted. When thus hard pressed, it was difficult 
to detain them long within the ring. Becoming desperate and terror- 
stricken, they would make for the line at full speed. If the men were 
too numerous or resolute to escape through, they would take flying 
leaps over their heads, and over all the sticks, guns, pitchforks, &c, 
raised to beat them back. By a concert of the regular hunters, gaps 



660 Our Western Border. 

were sometimes purposely left open to allow them a runway, when they 
would either be shot down in flight or kept for their own guns on a sub- 
sequent occasion. The wolf might now be seen skulking through the 
bushes, hoping to escape observation by concealment. An occasional 
panther would every now and then be beaten up. If bears were driven 
in, they would dash through the brush in a rage from one part of the 
field to the other, utterly regardless of the shower of bullets playing 
upon their thick hides. After all the game which had not escaped the 
lines had been mostly killed, a few good dogs and marksmen were sent 
in to scour the ground and rout out all that might be concealed or 
wounded. This over, they advanced again to the centre with a shout, 
dragging along the carcasses that had fallen, for the purpose of making 
a count and distribution. Sometimes at these circular hunts a grand 
feast or barbecue would close the sport. 

At times the bear or panther would become so annoying and destruc- 
tive in a certain region, that the whole community would turn out and 
surround a special swamp, canebrake or savage glen, and a regular 
clearance was made. At the close of one of these bear "drives" in 
Portage county, Ohio, the carcasses of no less than twenty-six bears 
were collected. Wolves were taken, with difficulty, in steel traps, but 
more readily in log pens, prepared like the roof of a house, shelving 
inwards on all sides, and containing the half-devoured carcass of a sheep 
or calf. The wolf easily clambered up the exterior side of the cabin 
and entered at the top, which was left open; but once fairly within it, 
he could neither escape nor throw it down. The wolves used to make sad 
havoc with the sheep, and also with the deer, which they chased in 
packs, but Bruin had a preference for pigs, and many a settler's cabin has 
been thrown, at nights, into violent excitement, by the sudden cries 
from the pig-pen. Bruin would spring suddenly upon his victim, grasp 
him in his strong fore legs, erect himself on his hind legs and walk off 
with his prey. A large bear would make his way, in* this manner, 
through a thick wood, faster than a man on foot could follow. The 
dogs, however, would soon bring him to bay or force him to drop his 
porker. But, if undisturbed, the squeals and struggles of the hog would 
become weaker and weaker, and finally cease altogether. Sometimes 
the recovered pig would be so badly hurt as to require killing, and 
would then be used as bait, so that Bruin, the next night, would be 
" hoist by his own petard." Border Chronicles contain many exciting 
adventures with bears and wolves, and frequently their bold pursuers 
and slayers would be the pioneer boys or women. If a hog were only 
partly eaten by a bear, he would invariably return the next night for 
the balance, showing not a little sagacity in avoiding his fate. To catch 



Game and Deer Drives of the Olden Time. 661 

him, a heavy steel trap, with smooth jaws and a long drag-chain, was 
used, with iron claws at the extremity. It was not fastened, because 
the great strength of the animal would enable him to free himself, but 
as he ran, after being caught, the claws would catch in the brush, leav- 
ing a distinct trail. He was generally overtaken by the dogs within a 
mile or so, when, notwithstanding his shackles and wounds, the bear 
would make desperate fight, killing or lacerating valuable dogs, and 
perhaps, after all, requiring the rifle. 

Turkeys were generally taken in square pens, made of lighter timber 
than wolf cabins, and covered at the top. They entered at an open 
door in the side, which was suspended by a string that led to a catch 
within, surrounded with grain. While engaged picking and scratching 
among the bait, the catch would be struck and down would come the 
door. A better way than the door, however, was to make a hole in the 
ground under one side of the pen, large enough for the turkeys to enter, 
a trail of bait being laid through this to the outside. The turkeys 
would then readily enter, but once inside and finding themselves con- 
fined, they would lift their heads, and, becoming dazed, would never 
have sense enough to find their way out by the same hole. 

In pioneer times the country was much infested with rattlesnakes. 
There were two kinds, the large yellow and the smaller, but more 
irascible and venomous, black rattlesnake, which frequented low 
grounds. The poison of rattlesnakes never affected hogs, and, for- 
tunately, these latter were very fond of snakes, and would entirely rid 
a piece of woods of them where they were allowed to range. Some 
hogs would show as much ardor and dexterity in the chase and killing 
of a rattlesnake as would a wolf in chase of a wounded or exhausted 
deer. Trailing them through the woods, either by sight or scent, they 
would rush at them with incredible swiftness and boldness, regardless of 
their fangs, and jumping on them repeatedly with their fore feet, would 
soon dispatch them. 

There was little diminution of game in Ohio until 1820. To give a 
good illustration of a "deer drive," we learn from General L. V. Bierce, 
of Akron, Ohio, that one occurred in 181 8, in the Western Reserve. 
Five miles square were marked off for the hunt, and a half mile square 
reserved into which to finally drive the game. The lines were 
formed by nine A. M. The horns sounded at ten from the different 
corners. When the half mile square line was reached, a halt was made 
to reform and close up the lines. The firing then commenced and con- 
tinued three hours. A great many deer succeeded in breaking through, 
and turkeys were shot by the score. The grand result was one hundred 
and twenty deer, twenty-one bears and eighteen wolves. 



662 Our Western Border. 



CAPTAIN MINTER'S FAMOUS BEAR FIGHT. 

Captain John Minter, of Kentucky, was a noted hunter. Soon after 
settling in Delaware county, Ohio, he had a famous bear fight, by which 
he came near losing his life. When "hunting alone one day, he came 
across a very large bear and fired at him. The bear fell, and, reload- 
ing his piece, Minter, supposing him to be dead, advanced and touched 
his nose with the muzzle of his gun, when the bear instantly rose upon 
his hind legs to seize him. Minter fired again and cast his hatchet, only 
inflicting flesh wounds, however, which served but to increase the 
creature's rage. As the huge beast sprang forward to grasp him, he 
struck him with the rifle on the head with all his might, producing no 
other effect than shivering his gun to pieces. Too late now to escape ! 
So Minter drew his big knife from its sheath and made a plunge at old 
Bruin's heart, but the cunning varmint, by one stroke of his paw, 
whirled the knife into the air, and enfolding its weaponless owner with- 
in his huge arms, both rolled to the ground. 

A fearful struggle now ensued between the combatants ; one fighting 
by instinct and the other guided by the dictates of reason. The for- 
mer was wholly bent upon hugging his active adversary to death; while 
the latter aimed at presenting his body in such positions as would de- 
feat those vise-like squeezes till he could loosen the grasp. Minter was 
full six feet high, of large frame and toughened muscles, and was noted 
for his litheness and agility. He needed it all. The woods were open, 
free from underbrush, and in those desperate throes and struggles the 
two rolled in all directions. Several times the hapless, gasping hunter 
thought the boa-constrictor hug of the bear would finish him, but by 
choking the brute with all his strength, he would compel him to release 
his hold to knock off his hands, when he would recover his breath and 
gain a better hold and position. 

In this varying way the dreadful conflict was maintained for several 
hours, when, in a struggle more obstinate and protracted than usual, 
the contestants rolled towards where Minter's knife lay. This inspired 
the exhausted hunter with new strength and heart, but he had to make 
many ineffectual efforts before he could tumble the bear within reach 
of it. Finally, by a desperate lurch, he was enabled to clutch the wel- 
come weapon, which, at every chance he had, he plunged to the hilt 
with all his remaining strength, till at last the horrid beast began, 
gradually, to relax his hold, and finally rolled over in the agonies of 
death. He was game to the very last. 



Captain Minter's Famous Bear Fight. 663 

The panting, recumbent hunter watched his last breath, for he could 
not rise from the ground. He finally was enabled to crawl to a log, 
where his eyes closed and his heart sickened at the scene. Not a rag 
was left him, and over his back, arms and legs the flesh was torn to the 
bones by the teeth and claws of the bear — in some places hanging in 
shreds. By crawling and walking, alternately, the poor fellow man- 
aged to reach home some time during the night, with no other cover- 
ing, however, than a gore of blood from head to foot. Next morning 
his friends, who went out to survey the field of combat and bring in 
the trophy, said the surface was torn up for a full half acre. After 
several weeks Minter recovered, but he carried to his grave broad scars 
and long welts from a quarter to a half inch thick. He never coveted 
another bear fight, but gave up hunting and turned his attention to 
agriculture. 

Bears in the old pioneer days were very thick and troublesome 
throughout Ohio and Kentucky, but very few were of the ferocity of 
the one Minter fought. In one of the circular drives held in Portage 
county, Ohio, a great haunt for bears, called "Perkins' Swamp," was 
embraced, and no less than twenty-six were brought to the centre and 
others reported. Mrs. John Austin, of Ashtabula county, once heard *a 
bear out among her hogs and determined to spoil his sport. So hurry- 
ing her children up a ladder in case she should be the worsted party ? 
she seized a rifle and rushing out saw the bear with one of the hogs in 
its forearms, striding off for the woods. Soon as it saw the woman, it 
dropped the squealing porker and faced her. Falling upon her 
knees to take steady aim, and resting her rifle on the fence, within six 
feet of his bearship, the intrepid woman let fly. Perhaps fortunately 
for her, the flint missed fire. Again and again she snapped the piece, 
but with the same result. The bear, after keeping his erect position 
some time, finally dropped on all fours and scrambled off into the 
woods. 

Not long afterwards, the wives of two absent settlers occupied a 
cabin together and heard a dreadful noise from the pig-pen, which was 
near and in full sight of the house. They knew well from what the 
noise proceeded, and, upon looking out, could see the black intruder 
making an assault upon the swine. They attempted, by loud screams 
and by hurling firebrands, to frighten the animal off, but not succeed- 
ing, they took an unloaded rifle and having heard their husbands say it 
required just two fingers of powder, they poured liberally into the muz- 
zle (the fingers, however, measured lengthwise instead of breadthwise,) 
and putting a ball on top, they boldly sallied out to the attack. One 
held the light while the other fired the gun. 



664 Our Western Border. 

Such another report from a tube of equal capacity sure was never 
heard ! The females both fell prostrate and insensible, and the gun 
flew into the bushes. The bear may have been frightened to death, but 
no trace of him could be found. It was his last visit. 



HOW MULDROW FOUND HIS NEXT NEIGHBOR. 

Judge James Hall was once riding in Kentucky over a range of sav- 
age precipices called Muldrow's Hill, and came across a cluster of di- 
lapidated log houses, and wondered to himself why any pioneer should 
ever have settled on such a bare and inhospitable tract, when he might 
have selected any of the rich plains and delightful valleys surrounding, 
and yet such a choice of location was not uncommon among the earli- 
est settlers, reference being had to security from Indian hostilities. 
Muldrow, he learned from a resident of that region, settled there when 
not a single white man but himself was in that whole district, and re- 
sided there with his wife for an entire year without having seen the face 
of any other human being. His cabin being secure by its seclusion, he 
could safely range among all the neighboring hunting grounds. 

* He was thus wandering one day in search of game when he heard the 
barking of a dog, and supposing that an Indian was near, concealed 
himself. Presently a small dog came running along his track, with his 
nose to the ground as if pursuing his footsteps, and had nearly reached 
his hiding place, when it stopped, snuffed the air and uttered a low 
whine, as if to admonish its master that the object of pursuit was near 
at hand. In a few minutes the owner of the dog came stepping cau- 
tiously along, glancing his eyes jealously around, and uttering low sig- 
nals to the dog. But the dog stood at fault, and the owner halted 
within a few yards of our hunter and fully exposed to view. The new 
comer was a tall, athletic man, completely armed with rifle, tomahawk 
and knife ; but whether he was a white man or an Indian, could not be 
determined either by his complexion or dress. He wore a hunting 
shirt and leggins of dressed deerskin, and a hat from which the rim 
was entirely worn away and the crown elongated into the shape of a 
sugar loaf. The face, feet and hands, which were exposed, were of the 
tawny hue of the savage, but whether the color was natural, or the ef- 
fect of exposure, could not be ascertained even by the keen eye of the 
hunter, and the features were so disguised by dirt and gunpowder, that 
their expression afforded no clue, by which die question could be de- 
cided, whether the individual was a friend or a foe. 



<. 



A Wild White Man and His Story. 665 

There was but a moment for deliberation, and, after a hasty scrutiny, 
the pioneer, inclining to the opinion that the stranger was an Indian, 
cautiously drew up his rifle and took a deliberate aim; but the bare pos- 
sibility that he might be pointing his weapon at the bosom of a coun- 
tryman, induced him to pause. Again he raised his gun, and again 
hesitated; while his opponent, with his rifle half raised towards his 
face, and his finger on the trigger, looked eagerly around. Both 
stood motionless and silent; one searching for the object of his 
pursuit, the other in readiness to fire. At length the hunter, 
having resolved to delay no longer, cocked his rifle — the click reached 
the acute ear of his opponent, who instantly sprang behind a tree; the 
hunter imitated his example and they were now fairly opposed, each 
covered by a tree, from behind which he endeavored to get a shot at 
his adversary without exposing his own person. And now a series of 
stratagems ensued, each seeking to draw the fire of the other — until 
the stranger, becoming weary of suspense, called out, "Why don't you 
shoot, you tarnal cowardly varmint ? " "Shoot, yourself, you bloody 
redskin!" retorted the other. "No more a redskin than yourself!" 
"Are you a white man?" "To be sure I am; are you?" "Yes; no 
mistake in me." 

Whereupon, each being undeceived, they threw down their guns, 
rushed together, with open arms, and took a hearty hug. The hunter 
now learned that the stranger had been settled, with his family, about 
ten miles from him for several months past, and that they had often 
roamed over the same hunting grounds, each supposing himself the sole 
inhabitant of that region. On the following day the hunter saddled 
his horse and taking up his good wife behind him, carried her down 
to make a call upon her new neighbor, who, doubtless received the visit 
with far more sincere joy than usually attends such ceremonies. 



A WILD WHITE MAN AND HIS STORY. 

One morning, in Bourbon county, Kentucky, about the year 1785, a 
young man, of dark, wild and savage appearance, suddenly arose from 
a cluster of bushes and hailed the inmates of a cabin in a barbarous 
jargon that none could understand. He talked fast but uncouthly, 
making violent gestures, rolling his eyes and shrinking from contact 
with the neighbors, who were soon attracted. As several present under- 
stood Indian, they finally gathered that he had been captured while a 
child and adopted, but knew not who he was or whence he came. 



666 Our Western Border. 

A short time previously his Indian father and younger brother started 
with him for a war expedition into Kentucky. The hoot of an owl 
had twice alarmed the father, boding, as he said, death or captivity, 
and wished to return, but his two sons dissuaded him, and they had 
marched until in sight of the cabin he was now in. Suddenly the 
associations produced by the sight of the cabin, and other articles he had 
seen when a child, unlocked his memory, and the desire of rejoining 
his people so strongly seized his mind as to exclude every other idea. 
He had, therefore, concealed himself, and neglected to reply to all 
concerted signals, upon which the rest had made off, and he had ap- 
proached the cabin. 

The appearance of the young man was so wild and suspicious that 
his strange story was doubted, and many urged that he should be 
arrested as a spy or a decoy. Others, however, were inclined to be- 
lieve, and asked, as a test of the truth of his narrative, whether he 
would conduct them to where the canoe was buried. To this the 
stranger objected most vehemently, declaring that although he had 
deserted his father and brother, yet they had been very kind to him 
and he would not betray them. This only increased suspicion, and it 
was at once demanded that he should lead them to the canoe. With 
obvious reluctance the young man complied. From twenty to thirty 
mounted men followed him to the Licking. 

The stranger, probably in the hope of allowing his relations time to 
get off, said he would first conduct them to the spot where they had en- 
camped when the scream of the owl alarmed his father, and where an 
iron kettle had been left concealed in a hollow tree. He was probably 
induced to do this from the hope of delaying the pursuit so long as to 
afford his friends an opportunity of crossing the river in safety. If 
such was his intention, no measure could have been more unfortunate. 
The whites approached the encampment in deep silence and quickly 
perceived two Indians, an old man and a boy, seated by the fire and 
busily employed in cooking some venison. The deserter became much 
agitated at the sight of them, and so earnestly implored his country- 
men not to kill them, that it was agreed to surround the encampment 
and endeavor to secure them as prisoners. This was accordingly at- 
tempted, but so desperate was the resistance of the Indians that the 
whites were compelled to fire upon them, and the old man fell mortally 
wounded, while the boy, by an incredible display of address and ac- 
tivity, was enabled to escape. 

The deserter beheld his father fall, and, throwing himself from his 
horse, ran up to the spot where the old man lay bleeding but still sen- 
sible, and, falling upon his body, besought his forgiveness for being the 



How Major Smith Recovered his Sweetheart. 667 

unwilling cause of his death, and wept bitterly. His father evidently 
recognized him, gave him his hand, but almost instantly expired. The 
white men now called upon him to conduct them at a gallop to the spot 
where the canoe was buried, expecting to reach it before the Indian 
boy and intercept him. The deserter in vain implored them to com- 
passionate his feelings. He ufged that he had already sufficiently 
demonstrated the truth of his former assertions at the expense of his 
father's life, and earnestly entreated them to permit his younger brother 
to escape. His companions, however, were inexorable. Nothing but 
the blood of the young Indian would satisfy them, and the deserter 
was again compelled to act as a guide. 

Within two hours they reached the designated spot. The canoe was 
still there, and no track could be seen upon the sand, so that it was evi- 
dent that their victim had not yet arrived. Hastily dismounting, they 
tied their horses and concealed themselves within close rifle shot of the 
canoe. Within ten minutes after their arrival the Indian appeared in 
sight, walking swiftly towards them. He went straight to the spot 
where the canoe had been buried, and was in the act of digging it up, 
when he received a dozen balls through his body, and, leaping high 
into the air, fell dead upon the sand. He was scalped and buried 
where he fell, without having seen his brother, and probably without 
having known the treachery by which he and his father had lost their 
lives. The deserter remained but a short time in Bourbon, and never 
regained his tranquillity of mind. He shortly afterwards disappeared, 
but whether to seek his relations in Virginia or Pennsylvania, or 
whether, disgusted by the ferocity of the whites, he returned to the 
Indians, has never yet been known. He was never heard of after- 
wards. 



HOW MAJOR SMITH RECOVERED HIS SWEETHEART. 

Among the adventurers whom Boone describes as having reinforced 
his little colony was a young gentleman named Smith, who had been a* 
Major in the militia of Virginia, and who, in the absence of Boone, 
was once chosen to command the rude citadel, which contained all the 
wealth of this patriarchal band — their wives, their children and their 
herds. It held also an object particularly dear to this young soldier — a 
lady, the daughter of one of the settlers, to whom he had pledged his 
affections. 

It came to pass, upon a certain day, that this young lady, with a 
female companion, strolled out along the banks of the Kentucky river. 



668 Our Western Border. 

Having rambled about for some time, they espied a canoe lying by 
the shore, and, in a frolic, stepped into it with the determination of 
visiting a neighbor on the opposite bank. It seems that they were not 
so well skilled in navigation as the Lady of the Lake, who " paddled 
her own canoe " very dexterously ; for, instead of gliding to the point 
of destination, they were whirled about by the stream, and at length 
thrown on a sand bar, from which they were obliged to wade to the 
shore. Full of the mirth excited by their wild adventure, they hastily 
arranged their dresses, and were proceeding to climb the bank when 
three Indians, rushing from a neighboring covert, . seized the fair wan- 
derers and forced them away. 

Their savage captors, evincing no sympathy for their distress, nor 
allowing them time for rest or reflection, hurried them along during the 
whole day by rugged and thorny paths. Their shoes were worn off by 
the rocks, their clothes torn and their feet and limbs lacerated and 
stained with blood. To heighten their misery, one of the savages be- 
gan to make love to Miss , (the intended of Major S.,) and while 

goading her along with a pointed stick, promised, in recompense for 
her sufferings, to make her his squaw. This at once roused all the 
energies of her mind and called its powers into action. In the hope 
that her friends would soon pursue them, she broke the twigs as she 
passed along and delayed the party as much as possible by tardy and 
blundering steps. But why dwell on the heartless and unmanly cruelty 
of these savages ? The day and the night passed, and another day ot 
agony had nearly rolled over the heads of these afflicted females, when 
their conductors halted to cook a wild repast of buffalo meat. 

The ladies were soon missed from the garrison. The natural courage 
and sagacity of Smith, now heightened by love, gave him the wings of 
the wind and the fierceness of the tiger. The light traces of female 
feet led him to the place of embarkation ; the canoe was traced to the 
opposite shore ; the deep print of the moccasin in the sand told the 
rest, and the agonized Smith, accompanied by a few of his best woods- 
men, pursued " the spoil-encumbered foe." 

The track once discovered, they kept it with that unerring sagacity 
so peculiar to our hunters. The bended grass, the disentangled briers 
and the compressed shrub, afforded the only but to them the certain 
indications of the route of the enemy. When they had sufficiently as- 
certained the general course of the retreat of the Indians, Smith quitted 
the trace, assuring his companions that they would fall in with them at 
the pass of a certain stream ahead, for which he now struck a direct 
course, thus gaining on the foe, who had taken the most difficult paths. 
Arrived at the stream, they traced its course until they discovered the 



Jesse Hughes, the Mountain Hunter. 669 

water newly thrown upon the rocks. Smith, leaving his party, now 
crept forward upon his hands and feet, until he discovered one of the 
savages seated by a fire, and with deliberate aim shot him through the 
heart. 

The women rushed towards their deliverer, and recognizing Smith, 
clung to him in the transport of newly-awakened joy and gratitude, 
while a second Indian sprang towards him with his tomahawk. Smith, 
disengaging himself from the ladies, aimed a blow at his antagonist with 
his rifle, which the savage avoided by springing aside, but, at the same 
moment, the latter received a mortal wound from another hand. The 
other and only remaining Indian fell in attempting to escape. Smith, 
with his interesting charge, returned in triumph to the fort, where his 
gallantry was finally repaid by the sweetest of all rewards — the girl 
herself. 



JESSE HUGHES, THE MOUNTAIN HUNTER. 

Jesse Hughes was one of the most daring, energetic and successful 
Indian hunters in the mountain region of Virginia, and was an adept 
with the rifle and tomahawk. A man of delicate frame but an iron 
constitution, he could endure more fatigue than any of his associates, 
and thus was enabled to remain abroad at all seasons without detriment. 
He averted many a threatened blow and saved the lives of numerous 
helpless settlers, and, consequently, his memory is still dear in the 
region which he helped to protect. The following incidents of his 
career De Hass derives from sources entitled to every credit : 

About 1 790, no Indian depredations having recently occurred in that 
vicinity, the inhabitants began to think that difficulties were finally at 
an end, when, one night, a man heard the fence of a small lot, in which 
he had a horse confined, fall, and, running out, he saw an Indian spring 
on the horse and dash off. The whole settlement was soon alarmed, 
and a company of twenty-five or thirty men raised, prepared to start 
at daylight. They went around the settlement, and found the trail of 
eight or ten horses, and they supposed there were about that many In- 
dians. The Captain, who had been chosen before Hughes arrived, 
called a halt and held a council to determine in what manner to pursue 
them. The Captain and a majority of the company were for following 
on their trail, but Hughes was opposed, and said he could take them 



670 Our Western Border. 

to the place where the enemy would cross the Ohio, by a shorter way. 
But the Captain insisted on pursuing the trail. 

Hughes then pointed out the danger of trailing the Indians, and 
insisted that they would waylay their trail, to find whether they were 
pursued or not, and would choose a situation where they could shoot 
two or three and set the rest at defiance, and thus out-travel them and 
make their escape. The commander found that Hughes was likely to 
get a majority for his plan, and that he (the Captain) would lose the 
honor of planning the expedition, and so he broke up the council by 
calling aloud to the men to follow him and let the cowards go home, 
and dashed off at full speed, the men all following. 

Hughes knew the Captain's remark was intended for him, and felt 
the insult deeply, but followed on with the rest. They had not gone 
many miles until the trail led down a ravine, where the ridge on one 
side was very steep, with a ledge of rock for a considerable distance. 
On the top of this cliff lay two Indians in ambush, and when the com- 
pany got opposite they made a noise of some kind that caused the men 
to stop; that instant two of the whites were shot and mortally wounded. 
They now found Hughes' prediction verified, for they had to ride so 
far around before they could get up the cliff, that the Indians, with ease, 
made their escape. They all now agreed that Hughes' plan was the 
best, and urged him to pilot them to the river where the Indians would 
cross. He agreed to do it, but was afraid the Indians, knowing they 
were pursued, would make a desperate push and get ahead. After leav- 
ing some of the company to take care of the wounded, they started for 
the Ohio and reached it the next day, but shortly after the Indians had 
crossed. The water was still muddy, and the rafts they had used in 
crossing were in sight, floating down close to the opposite shore. The 
men were now unanimous for returning home. Hughes soon got satis- 
faction for the insult the Captain had given him. He said he wanted 
now to find out who the cowards were; that if any of them would go, 
he would cross the river and scalp some of the Indians. They all re- 
fused. He then said if one man would go with him, he would under- 
take it. Hughes then said he would go and take one of their scalps or 
leave his own. 

The company now started home, and Hughes went up the river three 
or four miles, keeping out of sight of it, for he expected the Indians 
were watching to see if they would cross. He then made a raft, crossed 
the river and encamped for the night. The next day he found their 
trail and pursued it very cautiously, and about ten miles from the Ohio 
found their camp. There was but one Indian in it ; the rest were out 
hunting. The Indian left to keep camp, in order to pass away the 



Sad Death of Captain Van Buskirk. 671 

time, got to playing the fiddle on some bones they had for the pur- 
pose. Hughes crept up and shot .him, took his scalp, and made the 
best of his way home. 

The following anecdote illustrates the great discernment and instanta- 
neous arrangement of plans of this Virginia hunter. At a time of great 
danger from incursions of the Indians, when the citizens of the neigh- 
borhood were in a fort at Clarksburg, Hughes, one morning, observed 
a 'lad very intently fixing his gun. '''Jim," said he, "what are you 
doing that for?" " I am going to shoot a turkey that I hear gobbling 
on the hillside," said Jim. "I hear no turkey," said the other. 
' * Listen, " said Jim: " There, didn't you hear it? Listen again." 
'•Well," says Hughes, after hearing it repeatedly, "I'll go 
and kill it." "No, you won't," said the boy, "it is my turkey; I 
heard it first. " ;i Well," said Hughes, "but you know I am the best 
shot. I'll go and kill it, and give you the turkey!" The lad de- 
murred, but at length agreed. Hughes went out of the fort on the side 
that was furthest from the supposed turkey, and passing along the river, 
went up a ravine, and cautiously creeping through the bushes behind 
the spot, came in whence the cries issued, and, as he expected, espied 
a large Indian sitting on a chestnut stump surrounded by sprouts, 
gobbling, and watching if any one would come from the fort at his 
decoy. Hughes shot him before the Indian knew of his approach, took 
off the scalp and went into the fort, where Jim was waiting for his 
prize. "There now," says Jim, "you have let the turkey go. I would 
have killed it if I had gone." "No," says Hughes, " I didn't let it 
go;" and, taking out the scalp, threw it down. "There, take your 
turkey, Jim, I don't want it." The. lad was overcome, and nearly 
fainted to think of the certain death he had escaped, purely by the keen 
perception of Jesse Hughes. 



SAD DEATH OF CAPTAIN VAN BUSKIRK. 

Early in June, 1792, occurred the last conflict on the upper Ohio, 
between an organized party of Virginians and Indians. In consequence 
of the numerous depredations on the settlements now embraced in 
Brooke and Hancock counties, it was determined to summarily chastise 
these marauders ; and, accordingly, a party of men organized under the 
command of Captain Van Buskirk, an officer of tried courage and ac- 
knowledged efficiency. A party of Indians had committed sundry acts 
of violence, and it was believed they would endeavor to cross the Ohio, 



672 Our Western Border. 

on their retreat, at some point near Mingo Bottom. Van Buskirk's 
party consisted of about forty experienced frontiermen, some of whom 
were veteran Indian hunters. The number of the enemy was known to 
be about thirty. 

The whites crossed the river below the mouth of Cross Creek, and 
marched up the bottom, looking cautiously for the enemy's trail. 
They had discovered it along the run, but missing it, they concluded to 
take the ridge, hoping thus to cross it. Descending the ridge, and just 
as they gained the river, the Indians fired upon them, killing Captain 
Van Buskirk and wounding John Aidy. 

The enemy were concealed in a ravine amidst a dense cluster of paw- 
paw bushes. The whites marched in single file, headed by their Cap- 
tain, whose exposed situation will account for the fact that he was rid- 
dled with thirteen balls. The ambush quartered on their flank, and 
they were totally unsuspicious of it. The plan of the Indians was to 
permit the whites to advance in numbers along the line before firing 
upon them. This was done; but instead of each selecting his man, 
every gun was directed at the Captain, who fell with thirteen bullet- 
holes in his body. The whites and Indians instantly treed, and the 
contest lasted more than an hour. The Indians, however, were de- 
feated, and retreated towards the Muskingum, with the loss of several 
killed ; while the Virginians, with the exception of their Captain, had 
none killed, and but three wounded. 

Captain Van Buskirk's wife was killed just eleven months previous to 
the death of her husband. They lived about three miles from West 
Liberty. She had been taken prisoner by the Indians, and on their 
march towards the river her ankle was sprained so that she could not 
walk without pain. Finding her an incumbrance, the wretches put her 
to death on the hill just above where Wellsville now stands. On the 
following day her body was discovered by a party who had gone out in 
pursuit. 



MASSACRE OF THE PURDY FAMILY. 

One of the boldest murders perpetrated in the neighborhood of 
Wheeling, in 1790, was that of the family of James Purdy, a worthy 
and industrious settler on the hill above Bedelion's mill. The family 
consisted of Mr. and Mrs. Purdy and their four children. The cabin 
in which they lived was unfinished ; a blanket supplying the place of a 
door. But this was not deemed unsafe, as no Indians had appeared in 



Massacre of the Tush Family. 673 

^:he settlements for some months. Soon after dark four Indians stepped 
into the cabin, and, without uttering a word, commenced butchering 
the defenceless family. Two of them fell upon Purdy, who called to 
his wife for a knife, which she handed him ; but he was then too much 
exhausted from the repeated blows of the tomahawk to use it, and the 
next moment sank lifeless to the floor. Mrs. Purdy was knocked down 
with a war club; one child was dashed against the doorway and its 
brains scattered over the room, while an interesting little boy, who was 
screaming with fright, was quieted by a blow from the tomahawk. The 
two remaining children, daughters, were then made prisoners, and after 
plundering the house, the Indians made a rapid retreat across the Ohio. 
The girls were released after ten years' captivity. Mrs. Purdy was only 
stunned by the blow with the war club, and falling near the door, 
crawled off and secreted herself while the Indians were eating. 



MASSACRE OF THE TUSH FAMILY. 

The valley of Wheeling Creek, one of the most beautiful and pro- 
ductive in West Virginia, was the theatre of many a painful and bloody 
drama. Scarcely a quiet bend, or a surrounding hill, or a rippling trib- 
utary, that is not memorable as connected with the wars of the Indians. 
To one unacquainted with its tragic history, it would indeed be diffi- 
cult to imagine that those clear waters were once tinged with the blood 
of helpless women and children, and those stern old hills ever echoed 
to the terrible whoop of the savage. Of those who settled at an early 
day in this region, was George Tush. His residence was about twelve 
miles from the river, and his family consisted of himself, wife and five 
children. During the year 1794 the settlements on Wheeling Creek 
had been almost entirely exempt from Indian visitation, and many of 
the inhabitants began to console themselves with the reflection that day 
was about to dawn upon their long night of terror. 

On the evening of Saturday, September 6th, as George Tush was in 
the act of feeding his hogs, in a sty close to his cabin, he was fired 
upon by three savages, who had concealed themselves and waited until 
he should leave the house. A ball struck him transversely upon the 
breast, cutting a deep gash and inflicting a serious and painful wound, 
as it carried off a portion of the bone. It lodged in the shoulder blade. 
Tush, losing entirely his presence of mind, or, in all charitableness, we 
may allow that his pain deprived him of self-control, rushed madly by 
43 



674 Our Western Border. 

his own door, in direction of the forest, leaving his helpless family to 
the mercy of relentless savages. The next moment the Indians were in 
the house. 

The mother was instantly made prisoner, and in powerless but quiv- 
ering agony, compelled to witness the horrid butchery of her innocent 
children. In an instant the youngest-born was dashed against a tree, 
and the other four fell beneath the reeking tomahawk. Pillaging the 
house of such articles as they could carry off, a hurried retreat was 
made, lest the escaped husband should follow in pursuit. The feeble 
woman was brutally urged on before them. But, alas ! the scenes which 
she had just witnessed, together with her own situation, rendered her 
movements both slow and painful. Fearing discovery, the wretches 
tomahawked their helpless victim and left her at a point about eight 
miles from the place of captivity. Her bleached remains were found 
some years afterwards by her husband while hunting. 

Of the children tomahawked and scalped, one, a little girl of four 
years, recovered, and the infant, whose brains were supposed to have 
been dashed out, was found alive on the following day, lying upon its 
dead sisters and brothers. That child lives and became the wife of 
George Goodrich, residing near Shelbyville, Ind. The children had, a 
few days before, gathered a quantity of acorns, which, it is supposed, 
prevented the hogs disturbing the remains. 



MASSACRE OF CAPTAIN THOMAS AND FAMILY. 

On the night of the 5 th of March, 1781, a party of Indians came to 
the house of Captain John Thomas, on Booth's Creek, one of the 
branches of the Monongahela. Captain Thomas was a man of much 
piety, and had regular family devotion. While thus engaged, sur- 
rounded by his wife and seven children, the Indians approached his 
cabin. The settlement had as yet felt no apprehension of Indian 
depredation, as the season was not sufficiently advanced to cause alarm. 
Anticipating no attack, Captain Thomas was therefore not prepared, 
and his house not so well secured as was his custom. He had just re- 
peated the line of the hymn, " Go worship at ImmanuePs feet," when 
the Indians approached and fired. The Christian father fell dead at the 
moment, and a band of savages, forcing the door, entered and com- 
menced the work of death. Mrs. Thomas implored their mercy for 
herself and children ; but, alas ! the savage knows no mercy for feeble 
woman or helpless infancy. The tomahawk did its work until the 



An Attack Upon Kirkwood's Cabin. 675 

mother and six children lay weltering in blood by the side of the 
slaughtered father. They then proceeded to scalp the fallen and plun- 
der the house and then departed, taking with them one little boy as a 
prisoner. 

Elizabeth Juggins was in the house at the time the Indians came, but 
as soon as she heard the report of the guns and saw Captain Thomas 
fall, she threw herself under the bed and escaped the observation of the 
savages. When they had left the house, fearing they might still be in 
the neighborhood, she remained where she was until she discovered the 
house was on fire. When she crawled forth from her asylum, Mrs. 
Thomas was still alive, though unable to move, and casting a pitying 
glance towards her murdered infant, asked that it might be handed to 
her. Upon seeing Miss Juggins about to leave the house, she ex- 
claimed, "Oh, Betty, do not leave us! " Still anxious for her own 
safety, the girl rushed out, and taking refuge for the night between two 
logs, in the morning early spread the alarm. When the scene of the 
murder was visited, Mrs. Thomas was found in the yard, much mangled 
by the tomahawk and considerably torn by hogs — she had, perhaps in 
the death-struggle, thrown herself out at the door. The house, together 
with the remains of Captain Thomas and the children, was a heap of 
ashes. 



AN ATTACK UPON KIRKWOOD'S CABIN. 

Early in the Spring of 1790 a large body of Indians made an attack 
upon the settlement at the mouth of Indian Wheeling Creek, opposite 
Wheeling, Virginia. A block-house was in course of erection, but was 
not in condition to be occupied ; the cabin of Captain Robert Kirk- 
wood was used as a place of resort for the neighborhood. On this oc- 
casion Captain Joseph Biggs, who commanded a company of scouts, was 
in the cabin with fourteen of his men. About four o'clock in the 
morning Captain Biggs, feeling restless, arose and went out into the 
air. Returning, he closed the door, and, what was unusual, rolled a 
barrel of pork against it, in order to make it more secure. He had 
scarcely time to get into bed when the attack was commenced, and a 
furious assault made upon the door by means of rails, logs, &c. 

The besieged placed themselves under the command of Captain 
Biggs, by whom the defence was maintained in a manner highly credit- 
able to him as a brave and skillful officer. He ordered every particle 



676 Our Western Border. 

of light to be extinguished, and so stationed his men as to fire upon the 
enemy from every direction. The night was clear and beautiful; the 
moon, being nearly full, gave those within great advantage over the 
enemy, as they were enabled, by the light, to shoot the savages when- 
ever they presented themselves. Early in the engagement Captain 
Biggs received a serious wound, but, with the courage of a true soldier, 
concealed the nature of it until daylight. In noticing the movements 
of the enemy through one of the windows of the cabin, an Indian, who 
had slipped close under the side of the house, suddenly thrust his rifle 
through the window at which Captain Biggs was standing, and, dis- 
charging it, lodged the ball in the left arm of the Captain, just below 
the shoulder. The bone was badly fractured, and parts of it afterwards 
came away. 

Foiled in their attempt to effect an entrance at the door, (which had 
been well secured by puncheons from the floor,) the savages determined 
to try the effect of fire, and, accordingly, hurled burning fagots upon 
the roof, which, in a few minutes, was enveloped in flames. But again 
they were unsuccessful, for the whites pushed the roof off the house. 
The Indians now became furious, and commenced piling brush against 
the side of the house and set it on fire. At one time the noble little 
band thought their fate was sealed, as the flames would often mount to 
the top of the walls. With perseverance and caution, however, they 
succeeded in extinguishing the fire. This they did first with water, 
milk, and such other liquids as could be commanded, and finally with 
sand from beneath the cabin floor. Early in the attack the mortar was 
removed from the chinks of the walls and the savages, having suffered 
severely from the steady aim of the scouts through these convenient 
port holes, retired behind the half-finished block-house. 

Shortly after daybreak the boom of a cannon was heard echoing 
among the hills, which the besieged hailed as the harbinger of help. 
The firing had been heard at Wheeling, and the gun announced that 
assistance would soon be at hand. The savages, too, understood it, 
and without delay gathered up their wounded and disappeared in the 
forest. Five of the whites were severely wounded, one mortally. These 
were Captain Joseph Biggs, John Walker, Elijah Hedges, John Barrett 
and Joseph Van Metre. Walker was shot through the hip, causing his 
death early the next day. He was removed to the residence of Colonel 
Zane, Wheeling, where he died, and was buried with military honors. 
A coat belonging to some of the inmates, which had been suspended 
by the centre log and was left hanging after the roof had been thrown 
off, was found, on examination, to be completely riddled with bullets. 
The number of Indians was never fully ascertained, nor the extent oi 



A "Perfect Devil" Kills Seven Indians. 677 

their killed and wounded. They were supposed to have been the same 
concerned in the engagement with Captain Van Buskirk's company at 
the mouth of Brush Run, an account of which has already been given. 



A "PERFECT DEVIL" KILLS SEVEN INDIANS. 

In 1758 an incident occurred near the present village of Petersburg, 
Va., which stands without a parallel in modern history. A man named 
Bingaman lived with his family in a cabin remote from any neighbors. 
He had been cautioned against the Indians; but, being a man of most 
determined resolution and herculean strength, he laughed at the idea 
of fear and said no cut-throat savages should ever drive him from his 
home. In the Fall of this year a party of eight Indians made a de- 
scent upon his cabin, late at night, while all his family were asleep. 
The household consisted of Bingaman, his wife, child and parents, who 
slept down stairs, and a hired man who slept above. Before Bingaman 
was aware of his danger the savages had forced the door and were in 
the house. Mrs. Bingaman, the younger, was shot through the left 
breast, but not dangerously wounded. Bingaman got his parents, wife 
and child beneath the bed, and then prepared for battle. The hired man 
was called down, but refused to come. The room was dark, and having 
discharged his gun, he commenced beating about at random with his 
heavy rifle. In this manner he fought with the desperation of a hero, 
and terribly did his blows tell upon the enemy. One after another he 
beat down before him, until, finally, of the eight but one remained, 
and he, terror-stricken, made from the house and escaped to tell his 
tribe that he had met with a man who was a "perfect devil." The in- 
trepid Virginian had actually killed seven of his foes, which, certainly, is 
unexampled in the history of single-handed combat. During the fight 
the Indians frequently grappled their powerful antagonist, but were 
unable to keep him down, as early in the engagement he had pulled off 
his shirt. In the morning, when he found that his wife was wounded, 
he became so exasperated at the cowardice of the hired man that he 
would have killed him, had not Mrs. Bingaman interposed to save his 
life. Bingaman afterwards moved to Natchez, where his son Adam, 
who was a lad at the time of the fight, had previously moved, and there 
he (the elder) died. 

Kerchieval gives another incident illustrative of the energy and cour- 
age of this man, which we give. A party of whites (of whom Binga- 
man was one) had started in pursuit of some retreating Indians. They 



678 Our Western Border. 

were overtaken late at night, and the pursuing party dismounting, the 
Captain ordered Bingaman to remain with the horses whilst the rest 
made the attack. This he refused to do, and followed after the com- 
pany. To make the destruction of the enemy more certain, it was 
deemed advisable to wait until daylight before they began the attack; 
but a young man, whose zeal overcame his discretion, fired into the 
group, upon which the Indians sprang to their feet and fled. Bingaman 
singled out a fellow of giant-like size, whom he pursued, throwing aside 
his rifle that his speed might not be retarded — passed several smaller 
Indians in the chase — came up with him, and, with a single blow of his 
hatchet, cleft his skull. When Bingaman returned to his battle ground, 
the Captain sternly observed, " I ordered you to stay and guard the 
horses." Bingaman as sternly replied, "You are a rascal, sir; you 
intended to disgrace me; and one more insolent word, and you shall 
share the fate of that Indian," pointing towards the Indian he had just 
slain. The Captain quailed under this stern menace and held his peace. 
He and Bingaman, a few days before, had a falling out. Several 
Indians fell in this affair, while the whites lost none of their party. 



LEVI MORGAN'S STRATAGEM FOR HIS LIFE. 

In 1787 the Indians again visited the settlement on Buffalo, Pa., and 
as Levi Morgan was engaged in skinning a wolf which he had just taken 
from his trap, he saw three of them — one riding a horse which he well 
knew, the other two walking near behind, coming towards him. On 
first looking in the direction they were coming, he recognized the horse 
and supposed the rider to be its owner — one of his near neighbors. A 
second glance discovered the mistake, and he seized his gun and sprang 
behind a large rock — the Indians at the same instant taking shelter by 
the side of a large tree. As soon as his body was obscured from their 
view, he turned, and seeing the Indians looking towards the farther end 
of the rock as if expecting him to make his appearance there, he fired 
and one of them fell. Instantly he had recourse to his powder horn to 
reload, but while engaged in skinning the wolf the stopper had fallen 
out and his powder was wasted. He then fled, and one of the savages 
took after him. 

For some time he held to his gun, but finding his pursuer sensibly gain- 
ing on him he dropped it, under the hope that it would attract the atten- 
tion of the Indian and give him a better chance of escape. The savage 



Riddled with Bullets and Yet Escapes. 679 

passed heedlessly by it. Morgan then threw his shot pouch and coat 
in the way, to tempt the Indian to a momentary delay. It was equally 
vain — his pursuer did not falter for an instant. He now had recourse 
to another expedient to save himself from captivity or death. Arriving 
at the summit of the hill up which he had directed his steps, he halted; 
and, as if some men were approaching from the other side, called 
aloud, "Come on! come on! here is one; make haste!" The Indian, 
not doubting that he was really calling to some men at hand, turned 
and retreated as precipitately as he had advanced; and when he heard 
Morgan exclaim, "Shoot quick or he will be out of reach," he seemed 
to redouble his exertions to gain that desirable distance. Pleased with 
the success of the artifice, Morgan hastened home, leaving his coat and 
gun to reward the savage for the deception practiced on him. At the 
treaty of Auglaize, Morgan met with the Indian who had given him this 
chase, and who still had his gun. After talking over the circumstance, 
rather more composedly than they had acted it, they agreed to test each 
other's speed in a friendly race. The Indian being beaten, rubbed his 
hams and said, "Stiff, stiff; too old.' 1 "Well," said Morgan, "you 
got the gun by outrunning me then, and I should have it now for out- 
running you; " and accordingly took it. 



RIDDLED WITH BULLETS AND YET ESCAPES. 

One of the most remarkable escapes upon record is that of Thomas 
Mills. The circumstances were these : On the thirtieth day of July, 
1783, Mills and two other men, Henry Smith and Hambleton Kerr, 
started on a fishing excursion, up the river, from Wheeling. When 
near Glenn's Run, a party of Indians, who had watched the movements 
of the whites, fired upon them, killing Smith and wounding Mills in 
fourteen places. He had that many distinct bullet holes in him, and 
yet not one of them was mortal. Kerr escaped. Just before the at- 
tack, Mills and his companions had caught an enormous catfish (weigh- 
ing eighty-seven pounds); and when the men were taken from the 
canoe, at Wheeling, their appearance was truly frightful; they were 
literally covered with blood and sand. Mills, attended by Rebecca 
Williams and Mrs. Ebenezer Zane, both skilled nurses, recovered from 
his wounds, and, as late as 1850, was living on the Ohio, near Shade 
river. He was, in his time, a most useful man on the frontier, possess- 
ing great experience as a hunter and scout. 



680 Our Western Border. 

Kerr was one of the most efficient spies west of the Ohio river. His 
father was killed near the mouth of Duck Creek, in the Summer of 179 1. 
Two of his neighbors, who were passing down the river in a canoe on 
the Virginia side of the island, hearing the report of a gun, landed and 
passed over the island, where they saw two Indians going from the 
canoe in which Kerr lay with the struggle of death still upon him. 
This murder of his father greatly exasperated Hambleton, and thence- 
forward no Indian was safe who crossed his path. He settled at the 
mouth of a small stream now known as Kerr's Run, at the upper end 
of Pomeroy, Ohio. 



A HANDSOME SQUAW MAKES LOVE TO BIGGS. 

In the year 1788 William Biggs was a settler in West Illinois, and 
while riding not far from home, was taken prisoner by a party of Kick- 
apoo Indians, one of whom was very bitter and ferocious, and tried 
several times to kill him. He, however, was prevented by the rest. 
When a halt was made for a meal, the party held a council to deter- 
mine what they would do with this contumacious one, who, they said, 
was stubborn and a coward, and would kill their captive the first 
opportunity. They finally concluded they would kill their refractory 
Indian. Two started out in his company, and soon after Biggs heard 
the report of a gun. An old chief then told him that, according to 
their custom, this one, who would not obey commands, had been 
killed. 

Biggs was made a Kickapoo and treated with marked kindness. He 
describes the character of the Illinois Indians as being entirely different 
from that of more eastern and northern tribes — milder, more amiable 
and much fonder of fun. A young squaw of the household took a 
great fancy for him, and was not slow to betray it. She very tenderly 
combed out the captive's hair, and then queued it with ribbons. The 
chief then gave him a regimental blue cloth coat, faced with buff, a fine 
beaver hat and a new ruffled shirt — all taken from officers they had 
killed — and made him put them on and strut across the ground ; when 
"the funny Indian" said he was a pretty man and a big captain. 

His humane captors carried their civility so far as to offer him a wife, 
which, on account of having one already, Biggs says he declined. The 
tawny lady, however — the same who had combed out his hair — did not 
conceal her partiality. We quote the love scene, as follows : 



Cacasotte Throws Fourteen Robbers Overboard. 681 

"When the Indians were about to take me to another village, she 
came up and stood at the door, but would not go in. I discovered the 
Indians laughing and plaguing her — she looked in a very ill humor; she 
did not want them to take me away. They immediately started from 
the cabin, and took a tolerably large path that led into the woods, in a 
pretty smart trot; the squaw started immediately after them; they 
would look back once in a while, and when they would see the squaw 
coming, they would whoop and laugh. When they got out of sight of 
the squaw, they stopped running and traveled in a moderate walk. 
When we got about three miles from the town,:they stopped where a 
large tree had fallen by the path, and laid high off of the ground ; they 
got up high on the log and looked back to see if the squaw was com- 
ing ; when the squaw came up she stopped, and they began to plague 
her and laugh at her ; they spoke English. They talked very provok- 
ingly to the squaw ; she soon began to cry. 

" On arriving at their destination that evening, he found her again 
posted at the door of the cabin at which he lodged, and her Indian 
friends making themselves merry at her constancy and want of success. 
The incorrigible white man, when reminded by his companions that he 
would be accepted if he chose to offer himself, parried the proposal by 
replying, ' I reckon not.' " He adds, " she stayed two days and three 
nights before she returned home ; I never spoke a word to her while she 
was there. She was a very handsome girl, about eighteen years of age, 
a beautiful, full figure and finely featured, and very white for a squaw." 
It has been asserted that nothing is so uncertain as the female except 
the male. 



CACASOTTE THROWS FOURTEEN ROBBERS OVERBOARD. 

During the last part and the first part of the present century, the 
West was very much infested with fugitives from justice and lawless des- 
peradoes. The intercourse between St. Louis and New Orleans was es- 
pecially dangerous. Goods were carried by barges and keelboats, and 
as they were very richly laden, they were considered glorious prizes, and 
were laid in wait for by bands of robbers. A very large and desperate 
gang, commanded by Culbert and Majilbray, had their nest at Cotton- 
wood Creek, where they carried on an extensive system of piracy. 

In 1787 a richly-laden barge, belonging to Mr. Beausoliel, of St. 
Louis, was on her way from New Orleans and was carried by a stiff breeze 



682 Our Western Border. 

safely past Cottonwood Creek. The baffled robbers immediately dis- 
patched a company of men up the river for the purpose of heading. 
The manoeuvre was effected in the course of two days, at an island 
which has since been called Beausoliel's island. The barge had just put 
ashore. The robbers boarded. The men were disarmed, guards were 
stationed in every part of the vessel, and she was soon under way. Mr. 
Beausoliel gave himself up to despair. This vessel would have shared 
the fate of many others that had preceded it, but for the heroic daring 
of a negro, who was one of the crew. 

Cacasotte, the negro, was a man rather under the ordinary height, 
very slender in person but of uncommon strength and activity. The 
color of his skin and the curl of his hair alone, told that he was a 
negro, for the peculiar characteristics of his race had given place in him 
to what might be termed beauty. His forehead was finely moulded, 
his eyes small and sparkling as those of a serpent, his nose aquiline, his 
lips of a proper thickness ; in fact, the whole appearance of the man, 
joined to his known character for shrewdness and courage, seemed to 
indicate an uncommon character. Cacasotte, as soon as the robbers 
had taken possession of the barge, danced, sang, laughed and soon in- 
duced his captors to believe that they had liberated him from irksome 
slavery, and that his actions were the ebullitions of pleasure. His con- 
stant attention to their smallest wants and wishes, too, won their con- 
fidence ; and whilst they kept a watchful eye on the other prisoners, 
they permitted him to roam through the vessel unmolested and un- 
watched. 

This was the state of things that the negro desired. He laid his plan 
before his master, who, after a great deal of hesitation, acceded to it. 
Cacasotte then spoke to two of the crew, likewise negroes, and engaged 
them in the conspiracy. Cacasotte was cook, and it was agreed be- 
tween him and his fellow conspirators that the signal for dinner should 
be the signal for action. The hour of dinner at length arrived. The 
robbers assembled in considerable numbers on the deck, and stationed 
themselves at the bow and stern and along the sides, to prevent any 
rising of the men. Cacasotte went among them with the most uncon- 
cerned look and demeanor imaginable. As soon as he perceived that 
his comrades had taken the stations he had assigned them, he took his 
position at the bow of the boat, near one of the robbers, a stout, 
herculean man, who was armed cap-a-pie. 

Everything being arranged to his satisfaction, Cacasotte gave the 
preconcerted signal, and immediately the robber near him was strug- 
gling in the water. With the speed of lightning he went from one 
robber to another, and in less than three minutes he had thrown four- 



Cacasotte Throws Fourteen Robbers Overboard. 683 

teen of them overboard. Then, seizing an oar, he struck on the head 
those who attempted to save themselves by grappling the running 
boards, then shot, with the muskets that had been dropped on deck, 
those who swam away. In the meantime the other conspirators were 
not idle, but did great execution. The deck was soon cleared, and the 
robbers that remained below were too few in number to offer any re- 
sistance. Having got rid of his troublesome visitors, Mr. Beausoliel 
deemed it prudent to return to New Orleans, and after that the barges 
went in company and well armed with swivels. 



Chapter XL 



PIONEER WOMEN— THEIR TRIALS AND HEROISM. 

The mothers of our forest land, 

Stout-hearted dames were they ; 
With nerve to wield the battle brand, 

And join the border fray. 
Our rough land had no braver, 

In its days of blood and strife, 
Aye, ready for severest toil, 

Aye, free to peril life. 

The history of our western border may well be deemed a record of 
woman's trials, privations and heroic deeds. We have already given 
numerous instances of all these. We have now to add a few more. 
How tender, shrinking women ever had the heart to expose themselves, 
as they did, to all the Protean perils of the savage wilderness, is the 
marvel of the present day. They seemed to be richly and peculiarly 
endowed to suit the times and the localities in which their lots were cast. 
We may be sure it was not for themselves that they thus cheerfully 
gave up home, society, and all the blessings of peace and quiet, to brave 
the savage wilds, to patiently endure its perils and privations, and to 
challenge the fierce assaults of wild beasts and of still wilder and more 
ferocious human foes. Ah, no : it was for those they loved. That 
solves the mystery. 

Man's love is of Man's life a part, 
'Tis Woman's whole existence. 

It was wonderful ! The constant dread by day and the consuming 
care by night — even though women were ever environed by extraordi- 
nary hazards — was utterly unselfish. It was felt but for those most dear 
to them, and thus the sufferings of their soul might be termed the soul 
of their sufferings, since it was through the tender, devoted and unsel- 
fish woman's heart that the chiefest agonies were inflicted. Especially 
were their innocent and helpless children the objects of unceasing care 
and anxiety, for these seemed to be the peculiar objects of savage hate 



Touching Narrative of Massy Harbison. 685 

and malignancy, and were used by fiendish tormentors to wring and 
agonize a mother's or a sister's heart, and to stir it down to its deepest 
depths. But let us now group together only a few from the very many 
examples of the heroism and sufferings of pioneer women, and first we 
give 

THE TOUCHING NARRATIVE OF MASSY HARBISON. 

On the return of my husband from General St. Clair's defeat, and 
on his recovery from the wound he received in the battle, he was made 
a spy, and ordered to the woods on duty, about the 2 2d of March, 
1792. The appointment of spies to watch the movements of the sava- 
ges was so consonant with the desires and interests of the inhabitants, 
that the frontiers now resumed the appearance of quiet and confidence. 
Those who had for nearly a year been huddled together in the block- 
houses, were scattered to their own habitations, and began the cultivation 
of their farms. The spies saw nothing to alarm them, or to induce them 
to apprehend danger, till the fatal morning of my captivity. They re- 
peatedly came to our house to receive refreshments and to lodge. 

On the 15th of May my husband, with Captain Guthrie and other 
spies, came home about dark and wanted supper; to procure which I 
requested one of the spies to accompany me to the spring and spring- 
house, and William Maxwell complied with my request. While he was 
at the spring and spring-house, we both distinctly heard a sound like 
the bleating of a lamb or fawn. This greatly alarmed us and induced 
us to make a hasty retreat into the house. Whether this was an Indian 
decoy, or a warning of what I was to pass through, I am unable to de- 
termine. But from this time and circumstance, I became considerably 
alarmed and entreated my husband to remove me to some more secure 
place from Indian cruelties. But Providence had designed that I should 
become a victim to their rage, and that mercy should be made manifest 
in my deliverance. 

On the night of the 21st of May two of the spies, Mr. James Davis 
and Mr. Sutton, came to lodge at our house, and on the morning 
of the 2 2d, at daybreak, when the horn blew at the block-house, which 
was within sight of our house and distant about two hundred yards, the 
two men got up and went out. I was also awake, and saw the door 
open and thought, after I was taken prisoner, that the scouts had left it 
open. I intended to rise immediately, but having a child at the breast, 
and it being awakened, I lay with it at the breast to get it to sleep 
again, and accidentally fell asleep myself. The spies have since informed 
me that they returned to the house again, and found that I was sleeping ; 



686 Our Western Border. 

that they softly fastened the door and went immediately to the block- 
house, and those who examined the house after the scene was over, say 
that both doors had the appearance of being broken open. 

The first thing I knew from falling asleep, was the Indians pulling me 
out of bed by my feet. I then looked up and saw the house full of In- 
dians, every one having his gun in his left hand and tomahawk in his 
right. Beholding the danger in which I was, I immediately jumped to 
the floor on my feet, with the young child in my arms. I then took a 
petticoat to put on, having on only the one in which I slept ; but the In- 
dians took it from me, and as many as I attempted to put on, they suc- 
ceeded in taking from me, so that I had to go just as I had been in bed. 
While I was struggling with some of the savages for clothing, others of 
them went and took the children out of another bed, and immediately 
took the two feather beds to the door and emptied them. 

The savages immediately began their work of plunder and devasta- 
tion. What they were unable to carry with them, they destroyed. 
While they were at their work, I made to the door, and succeeded in 
getting out with one child in my arms and another by my side ; but the 
other little boy was so much displeased by being so early disturbed in 
the morning, that he would not come to the door. 

When I got out, I saw Mr. Wolf, one of the soldiers, going to the 
spring for water, and beheld two or three of the savages attempting to 
get between him and the block-house ; but Mr. Wolf was unconscious 
of his danger, for the savages had not yet been discovered. I then gave 
a terrific scream, by which means Mr. Wolf discovered his danger and 
started to run for the block-house. Seven or eight of the Indians fired 
at him, but the only injury he received was a bullet in his arm, which 
broke it. He succeeded in making his escape to the block-house. 
When I raised the alarm, one of the Indians came up to me with his 
tomahawk as though about to take my life ; a second came and placed 
his hand before my mouth and told me to hush, when a third came with 
a lifted tomahawk and attempted to give me a blow ; but the first that 
came raised his tomahawk and averted the blow, and claimed me as his 
squaw. 

The commissary, with his waiter, slept in the store-house near the 
block-house. And upon hearing the report of the guns, came to the 
door to see what was the matter, and beholding the danger he was in, 
made his escape to the block-house ; but not without being discovered 
by the Indians, several of whom fired at him, and one of the bullets 
went through his handkerchief, which was tied about his head, and took 
off some of his hair. The handkerchief, with several bullet holes in it, 
he afterwards gave to me. 



Touching Narrative of Massy Harbison. 687 

The waiter, on coming to the door, was met by the Indians, who fired 
upon him, and he received two bullets through the body and fell dead 
by the door. The savages then set up one of their tremendous and 
terrifying yells, and pushed forward and attempted to scalp the man 
they had killed ; but they were prevented from executing their diaboli- 
cal purpose by the heavy fire which was kept up through the port holes 
from the block-house. 

In this scene of horror and alarm I began to meditate an escape, and 
for that purpose I attempted to direct the attention of the Indians from 
me and to fix it on the block-house, and thought if I could succeed in 
this I would retreat to a subterranean cave with which I was acquainted, 
which was in the run near where we were. For this purpose, I began 
to converse with some of those who were near me respecting the 
strength of the block-house, the number of men in it, &c, and being 
informed that there were forty men there, and that they were excellent 
marksmen, the savages immediately came to the determination to retreat, 
and for this purpose they ran to those who were besieging the block- 
house and brought them away. 

They then began to flog me with their wiping sticks, and to order 
me along. Thus what I intended as the means of my escape, was the 
means of accelerating my departure in the hands of the savages. But 
it was no doubt ordered by a kind Providence for the preservation of 
the fort and the inhabitants in it ; for when the savages gave up the at- 
tack and retreated, some of the . men in the fort had the last load of 
ammunition in their guns, and there was no possibility of procuring 
more, for it was all fastened up in the store-house, which was inaccessible. 

The Indians, when they had flogged me away with them, took my 
oldest boy, a lad about five years of age, along with them, for he was 
still at the door by my side. My middle little boy, who was about 
three years of age, had by this time obtained a situation by the fire in 
the house, and was crying bitterly to me not to go, and making sore com- 
plaints of the depredations of the savages. But these monsters were 
not willing to let the child remain behind them; they took him by 
the hand to drag him along with them, but he was so very unwilling to 
go, and made such a noise by crying, that they took him up by his feet 
and dashed his brains out against the threshold of the door. They then 
scalped and stabbed him, and left him for dead. When I witnessed this 
inhuman butchery of my own child, I gave a most indescribable and ter- 
rific scream, and felt a dimness come over my eyes, next to blindness, and 
my senses were nearly gone. The savages then gave me a blow across 
my head and face and brought me to my sight and recollection again. 
During the whole of this agonizing scene I kept my infant in my arms. 



688 Our Western Border. 

As soon as the murder was effected they marched me along to the 
top of the bank, about forty or sixty rods, and there they stopped and 
divided the plunder which they had taken from our house, and here I 
counted their number and found them to be thirty-two, two of whom 
were white men painted as Indians. Several of the Indians could speak 
English well. I knew several of them well, having seen them going 
up and down the Allegheny river. I knew two of them to be from the 
Seneca tribe of Indians, and two of them Munsees ; for they had called 
at the shop to get their guns repaired, and I saw them there. 

We went from this place about forty rods, and they then caught my 
uncle, John Currie's horses, and two of them, into whose custody I was 
put, started with me on the horses towards the mouth of the Kiskimine- 
tas, and the rest of them went off towards Puckety. When they came to 
the bank that descended towards the Allegheny it was so very steep, and 
there appeared so much danger in descending it on horseback, that I 
threw myself off the horse, in opposition to the will and command of the 
savages. 

My horse descended without falling, but the one on which the 
Indian rode who had my little boy, in descending, fell and rolled over 
repeatedly • and my little boy fell back over the horse, but was not 
materially injured ; he was taken up by one of the Indians, and we got 
to the bank of the river, where they had secreted some bark canoes under 
the rocks, opposite the island that lies between the Kiskiminetas and 
Buffalo. They attempted, in vain, to make the horses take the river, and 
had to leave the horses behind them, and took us in one of the canoes 
to the point of the island and there left the canoe. 

Here I beheld another hard scene, for as soon as we landed my 
little boy, who was still mourning and lamenting about his little 
brother, and who complained that he was injured by the fall in 
descending the bank, was murdered. One of the Indians ordered me 
along, probably that I should not see the horrid deed about to be per- 
petrated. The other then took his tomahawk from his side, and with 
this instrument of death killed and scalped him. When I beheld this 
second scene of inhuman butchery I fell to the ground senseless, with 
my infant in my arms, it being under and its little hands in the hair of 
my head. How long I remained in this state of insensibility I know not. 

The first thing I remember was my raising my head from the ground 
and feeling myself exceedingly overcome with sleep. I cast my eyes 
around and saw the scalp of my dear little boy, fresh bleeding from his 
head, in the hand of one of the savages, and sunk down to the earth 
again upon my infant child. The first thing I remember, after witness- 
ing this spectacle of woe, was the severe blows I was receiving from 



Touching Narrative of Massy Harbison. 689 

the hands of the savages, though at that time I was unconscious of the 
injury I was sustaining. After a severe castigation, they assisted me in 
getting up, and supported me when up. The scalp of my little boy 
was hid from my view, and in order to bring me to my senses again 
they took me back to the river and led me in knee-deep ; this had its 
intended effect. But " the tender mercies of the wicked are cruel." 

We now proceeded on our journey by crossing the island, and 
coming to a shallow place where we could wade out, and so arrive at 
the Indian side of the country. Here they pushed me in the river be- 
fore them, and had to conduct* me through it. The water was up to 
my 'breast, but I suspended my child above the water, and with the 
assistance of the savages, got safely out. Thence we rapidly proceeded 
forward, and came to Big Buffalo; here the stream was very rapid and 
the Indians had again to assist me. When we had crossed this creek, 
we made a straight course to the Connoquenessing Creek, the very place 
where Butler, Pa., now stands; and thence we traveled rive or six miles 
to Little Buffalo, which we crossed. 

I now felt weary of my life, and had a full determination to make the 
savages kill me, thinking that death would be exceedingly welcome 
when compared to the fatigue, cruelties and miseries I had the prospect 
of enduring. To have my purpose effected I stood still, one of the 
savages being before me, and the other walking behind me, and I 
took from off my shoulder a large powder horn they made me carry, 
in addition to my child, who was one year and four days old. I threw 
the horn on the ground, closed my eyes, and expected every moment 
to feel the deadly tomahawk. But to my surprise the Indian took it up, 
cursed me bitterly, and put it on my shoulder again. I took it off the 
second time, and threw it on the ground, and again closed my eyes, 
with the assurance I should meet death ; but instead of this, the Indian 
again took up the horn, and with an indignant, frightful countenance, 
came and placed it on again. I took it off the third time, and was de 
termined to effect it, and, therefore, threw it as far as I was able from 
me, over the rocks. The savage immediately went after it, while the 
one who had claimed me as his squaw, and who had stood and witnessed 
the transaction, came up to me and said: "Well done; you did right 
and are a good squaw, and the other is a lazy son of a gun ; he may 
carry it himself." 

The savages now changed their position, and the one who claimed 
me as his squaw, went behind. This movement, I believe, was to pre- 
vent the other from doing me any injury; and we went on till we 
struck the Connoquenessing at the Salt Lick, about two miles above 
Butler, where was an Indian camp, where we arrived a little before 

44 



690 Our Western Border. 

dark, having no refreshment during the day. The camp was made of 
stakes driven into the ground sloping, and covered with chestnut bark, 
and appeared sufficiently long for fifty men. The camp appeared to 
have been occupied for some time ; it was very much trodden, and large 
beaten paths went out from it in different directions. 

That night they took me about three hundred yards from the camp, up a 
run, into a large, dark bottom, where they^cut the brush in a thicket and 
placed a blanket on the ground and permitted me to sit down with my 
child. They then pinioned my arms back, only with a little liberty, so that 
it was with difficulty that I managed my child. Here, in this dreary 
situation, without fire or refreshment, having an infant to take care of, 
and my arms bound behind me, and having a savage on each side of me, 
who had killed two of my dear children that day, I had to pass the first 
night of my captivity. 

But the trials and tribulations of the day I had passed had so com- 
pletely exhausted nature, that notwithstanding my unpleasant situation, 
and my determination to escape, if possible, I insensibly fell asleep, and 
repeatedly dreamed of my escape and safe arrival in Pittsburgh, and 
several things relating to the town, of which I knew nothing at the 
time; but found to be true when I arrived there. The first night passed 
away and I found no means of escape, for the savages kept watch the 
whole of the night, without any sleep. 

In the morning one of them left us to watch the trail we had come, 
to see if any white people were pursuing us. During the absence of the 
Indian, the one that claimed and remained with me, and who was the 
murderer of my last boy, took from his bosom his scalp, and prepared 
a hoop and stretched the scalp upon it. Those mothers who have not 
seen the like done to one of the scalps of their own children, will be able 
to form but faint ideas of the feelings which then harrowed up my soul. 
I meditated revenge ! While he was in the very act I attempted to take 
his tomahawk, which hung by his side and rested on the ground, and 
had nearly succeeded, and was, as I thought, about to give the fatal blow, 
when, alas ! I was detected. 

The savage felt me at his tomahawk handle, turned upon me, cursed 
me and told me I was a Yankee ; thus insinuating he understood my in- 
tention, and to prevent me from doing so again, faced me. My excuse 
to him for handling his tomahawk was, that my child wanted to play with 
the handle of it. The savage who went upon the lookout in the morn- 
ing came back about twelve o'clock, and had discovered no pursuers. 
Then the one who had been guarding me went out on the same errand. 
The savage who was now my guard began to examine me about the 
white people, the strength of the armies going against the Indians, &c, 



Touching Narrative of Massy Harbison. 691 

and boasted largely of their achievements in the preceding Fall, at 
the defeat of General St. Clair. 

He then examined the plunder which he had brought from our 
house the day before. He found my pocket book and money among 
his plunder. There were ten dollars in silver and a half a guinea in gold 
in the book. During this day they gave me a piece of dried venison, about 
the bulk of an egg, and a piece about the same size the day we were 
marching, for my support and that of my child; but, owing to the blows 
I had received from them on the jaws, I was unable to eat a bit of it. 
I broke it up and gave it to the child. 

The savage on the lookout returned about dark. This evening, (Mon- 
day, the 23d,) they moved me to another station in the same valley, and. 
secured me as they did the preceding night. Thus I found myself the 
second night between two Indians, without fire or refreshment. Dur- 
ing this night I was frequently asleep, notwithstanding my unpleasant 
situation, and as often dreamed of my arrival in Pittsburgh. 

Early on the morning of the 24th a flock of mocking birds and 
robins hovered over us as we lay in our uncomfortable bed ; and sang 
and said, at least to my imagination, that I was to get up and go off. 
As soon as day broke, one of the Indians went off again to watch the 
trail, as on the preceding day, and he who was left to take care of me 
appeared to be sleeping. When I perceived this I lay still and began 
to snore, as though asleep, and he also fell asleep. Then I concluded 
it was time to escape. I found it impossible to injure him for my 
child at the breast, as I could not effect anything without putting the 
child down, and then it would cry and give the alarm ; so I contented 
myself with taking, from a pillow-case of plunder stolen from our 
house, a short gown, handkerchief and child's frock, and so made my 
escape ; the sun then being about half an hour high. 

I struck the Connoquenessing, and went down stream until about 
two o'clock in the afternoon, over rocks, precipices, thorns, briers, &c 5 
with my bare feet and legs. I then discovered I was on the wrong 
course, and waited till the North star appeared. Marking out the 
direction for the next day, I collected a bed of leaves, laid down and 
slept, though my feet, being full of thorns, began to be exceeding pain- 
ful, and I had nothing for self or babe to eat. The next morning I 
started early, nothing material occurring. Towards evening a gentle 
rain came on, and I began to prepare my leaf bed, setting the child 
down the while, who began to cry. Fearful of the consequences, I put 
him to the breast and he became quiet. I then listened and distinctly 
heard footsteps. The ground over which I had traveled was soft and 
my foot traces had been followed. 



692 Our Western Border. 

Greatly alarmed, I looked about for a place of safety, and provi- 
dentially discovered a large tree which had fallen, into the top of 
which I crept. The darkness greatly assisted me and prevented detec 
tion. The savage who followed me had heard the cry of the child and 
came to the very spot where it had cried, and there he halted, put down 
his gun, and was at this time so near that I heard the wiping stick 
strike against his gun distinctly. My getting in under the tree and 
sheltering myself from the rain, and pressing my boy to my bosom, got 
him warm, and, most providentially, he fell asleep, and lay very still 
during that time of extreme danger. All was still and quiet, the savage 
was listening to hear again the cry. My own heart was the only thing 
I feared, and that beat so loud that I was apprehensive it would betray 
me. It is almost impossible to conceive the wonderful effect my situa- 
tion produced upon my whole system. 

After the savage had stood and listened with nearly the stillness of 
death for two hours, the sound of a bell and a cry like that of a night 
owl, signals which were given to him by his companions, induced him 
to answer, and after he had given a most horrid yell, which was calcu- 
lated to harrow up my soul, he started and wfcnt off to join them. 
After his retreat, I concluded it unsafe to remain there till morning. 

But by this time nature was so nearly exhausted that I found some 
difficulty in moving; yet, compelled by necessity, I threw my coat about 
my child and placed the end between my teeth, and with one arm and 
my teeth I carried him, and with the other groped my way between the 
trees and traveled on, as I supposed, a mile or two, and there sat down 
at the root of a tree till morning. The night was cold and wet, and 
thus terminated the fourth day and night's difficulties, trials and dan- 
gers ! 

The fifth day, wet, exhausted, hungry and wretched, I started from 
my resting place as soon as I could see my way, and on that morning 
struck the head waters of Pine Creek, which falls into the Allegheny 
about four miles above Pittsburgh ; though I knew not then what waters 
they were ; I crossed them, and on the opposite bank I found a path, 
and on it two moccasin tracks, fresh indented. This alarmed me ; but 
as they were before me, and traveling in the same direction as I was, I 
concluded I could see them as soon as they could see me, and, there- 
fore, I pressed on in that path for about three miles, when I came to 
where another branch emptied into the creek, where was a hunter's 
camp, where the two men, whose tracks I had before discovered and 
followed, had breakfasted and left the fire burning. 

I became more alarmed, and determined to leave the path. I then 
crossed a ridge towards Squaw Run, and came upon a trail. Here I 



Touching Narrative of Massy Harbison. 693 

stopped and meditated what to do; and while I was thus musing, I saw 
three deer coming towards me at full speed ; they turned to look at 
their pursuers; I looked, too, with all attention, and saw the flash and 
heard the report of a gun. I saw some dogs start after them, and be- 
gan to look about for a shelter, and immediately made for a large log to 
hide myself. Providentially, I did not go clear to the log; for as I put 
my hand to the ground, to raise myself so that I might see who and 
where the hunters were, I saw a large heap of rattlesnakes, the top one 
being very large, and coiled up very near my face, and quite ready to 
bite me. 

I again left my course, bearing to the left, and came upon the head 
waters of Squaw Run, and kept down the run the remainder of that day. 
It rained, and I was in a very deplorable situation ; so cold and shiver- 
ing were my limbs, that frequently, in opposition to all my struggles, I 
gave an involuntary groan. I suffered intensely from hunger, though 
my jaws were so far recovered that, wherever I could, I procured grape- 
vines, and chewed them for a little sustenance. In the evening I came 
within one mile of the Allegheny river, though I was ignorant of it at 
the time; and there,* at the root of a tree, through a most tremendous* 
rain, I took up my fifth night's lodgings. In order to shelter my in- 
fant as much as possible, I placed him in my lap, and then leaned my 
head against the tree, and thus let the rain fall upon me. 

On the sixth (that was the Sabbath) morning from my captivity, I 
found myself unable, for a very considerable time, to raise myself from 
the ground ; and when I had once more, by hard struggling, got myself 
upon my feet and started, nature was so nearly exhausted and my spirits 
were so completely depressed, that my progress was amazingly slow and 
discouraging. In this almost helpless condition I had not gone far be- 
fore I came to a path where there had been cattle traveling ; I took it, 
under the impression that it would lead me to the abode of some white 
people, and in about a mile I came to an uninhabited cabin, and 
though I was in a river bottom, yet I knew not where I was nor yet on 
what river bank I had come. 

Here I was seized with feelings of despair, went to the threshold of 
the cabin and concluded that I would enter and lie down and die, since 
death would have been an angel of mercy to me in such a miserable sit- 
uation. Had it not been for the sufferings which my infant, who would 
survive me some time, must endure, I would have carried my determi- 
nation into execution. Here I heard the sound of a cow bell, which 
imparted a gleam of hope to my desponding mind. I followed the 
sound till I came opposite the fort at the Six Mile island, where I saw 
three men on the opposite bank of the river, 

m 



694 Our Western Border. 

My feelings then can be better imagined than described. I called to 
them, but they seemed unwilling to risk the danger of coming after me 
and asked who I was. I told them and they requested me to walk up 
the bank awhile that they might see if Indians were making a decoy of 
me, but I replied my feet were so sore I could not walk. Then one of 
them, James Closier, got into a canoe to fetch me over, while the other 
two stood with cocked rifles ready to fire on the Indians, provided they 
were using me as a decoy. When Mr. Closier came near and saw my 
haggard and dejected appearance, he exclaimed, " Who in the name of 
God are you?" This man was one of my nearest neighbors, yet in 
six days I was so much altered that he did not know me, either by my 
voice or countenance. 

When I landed on the inhabited side of the river, the people from 
the fort came running out to see me. They took the child from me, 
and now that I felt safe from all danger, I found myself unable to move 
or to assist myself in any degree, whereupon the people took me and 
carried me out of the boat to the house of Mr. Cortus. 

Now that I felt secure from the cruelties of the barbarians, for the 
first time since my captivity, my feelings returned'in all their poignancy 
and the tears flowed freely, imparting a happiness beyond what I ever 
experienced. When I was taken into the house, the heat of the fire and 
the smell of victuals, of both of which I had so long been deprived, 
caused me to faint. Some of the people attempted to restore me and 
some to put clothes on me, but their kindness would have killed me had 
it not been for the arrival of Major McCully, who then commanded 
along the river. When he understood my situation, and saw the pro- 
visions they were preparing for me, he was greatly alarmed ; ordered me 
out of the house, away from the heat and smell ; prohibited me taking 
anything but a very little whey of buttermilk, which he administered 
with his own hands. Through this judicious management, I was mer- 
cifully restored to my senses and gradually to health and strength. 

Two of the females, Sarah Carter and Mary Ann Crozier, then began 
to take out the thorns from my feet and legs, which Mr. Felix Negley 
stood by and counted to the number of one hundred and fifty, though 
they were not all extracted at that time, for the next evening, at Pitts- 
burgh, there were many more taken out. The flesh was mangled dread- 
fully, and the skin and flesh were hanging in pieces on my feet and 
legs. The wounds were not healed for a considerable time. Some of 
the thorns went through my feet and came out at the top. For two 
weeks I was unable to put my feet to the ground to walk. 
The next morning a young man, employed by the magistrates 
of Pittsburgh, came for me to go immediately to town to give 



Desperate Attack on Widow Scraggs' Cabins. 695 

in my deposition, that it might be published to the American 
people. Some of the men carried me into a canoe, and when I 
arrived I gave my deposition. As the intelligence spread, Pittsburgh, 
and the country for twenty miles around, was all in a state of commo- 
tion. The same evening my husband came to see me, and soon after I 
was taken back to Coe's Station. In the evening I gave an account of 
the murder of my boy on the island, and the next morning a scout 
went out and found the body and buried it, nine days after the 
murder. 



DESPERATE ATTACK ON WIDOW SCRAGGS' CABINS. 

On the night of the nth of April, 1787, the house of a widow by 
the name of Scraggs, in Bourbon county, Kentucky, became the scene 
of a thrilling adventure. She occupied what is generally called a 
double cabin, in a lonely part of the county, one room of which was 
tenanted by the old lady herself, together with two grown sons and a 
widowed daughter, at' that time suckling an infant, while the other was 
occupied by two unmarried daughters, from sixteen to twenty years of 
age, together with a little girl not more than half grown. The hour 
was eleven o'clock at night. One of the unmarried daughters was still 
busily engaged at the loom, but the other members of the family, with 
the exception of one of the sons, had retired to rest. 

Some symptoms of an alarming nature had engaged the attention of 
the young man for an hour before anything of a decided character took 
place. The cry of owls was heard in the adjoining woods, answering 
each other in rather an unusual manner. The horses, which were enclosed 
as usual, in a pound near the house, were more than commonly excited, 
and, by repeated snorting and galloping, announced the presence of 
some object of terror. The young man was often upon the point of 
awakening his brother, but was as often restrained by the fear of in- 
curring ridicule and the reproach of timidity, at that time an unpardon- 
able blemish in the character of a Kentuckian. At length hasty steps 
were heard in the yard, and quickly afterwards several knocks at the 
door, accompanied by the usual exclamation, "who keeps house?" in 
very good English. The young man, supposing, from the language, 
that some benighted settlers were at the door, hastily arose and was ad- 
vancing to withdraw the bar which secured it, when his mother, who 
had long lived upon the frontier and had probably detected the 
Indian tone in the demand for admission, sprang out of bed and 
ordered her son not to admit them, declaring that they were Indians. 



696 Our Western Border. 

She instantly awakened her other son, and the two young men, 
seizing their guns, which were always charged, prepared to repel the 
enemy. The Indians, finding it impossible to enter under their assumed 
characters, began to thunder at the door with great violence, but a 
single shot from a loophole compelled them to shift the attack to some 
less exposed point ; and, unfortunately, they discovered the door of the 
other cabin, which contained the three daughters. The rifles of the 
brothers could not be brought to bear upon this point, and by means 
of several rails, taken from the yard fence, the door was forced from 
its hinges, and the three girls were at the mercy of the savages. One 
was immediately secured, but the eldest defended herself desperately 
with a knife which she had been using at the loom, and stabbed one of 
the Indians to the heart before she was tomahawked. In the meantime 
the little girl, who had been overlooked by the enemy in their eager- 
ness to secure the others, ran out into the yard, and might have effected 
her escape had she taken advantage of the darkness and fled, but instead 
of that the terrified little creature ran around the house wringing her 
hands and crying out that her sisters were killed. 

The brothers, unwilling to hear her cries without risking everything 
for her rescue, rushed to the door and were preparing to sally out to her 
assistance, when their mother threw herself before them and calmly de- 
clared that the child must be abandoned to her fate— -that the sally would 
sacrifice the lives of all the rest without the slightest benefit to the little 
girl. Just then the child uttered a loud scream, followed by a faint 
moan, and all was again silent. Presently the crackling of flames was 
heard, accompanied by a triumphant yell from the Indians, announcing 
that they had set fire to that division of the house which had been occu 
pied by the daughters, and of which they held undisputed possession. 

The fire was quickly communicated to the rest of the building, and it 
became necessary to abandon it or perish in the flames. In the one case, 
there was a possibility that some might escape; in the other, their fate 
would be equally certain and terrible. The rapid approach of the flames 
cut short their momentary suspense. The door was thrown open, and 
the old lady, supported by her eldest son, attempted to cross the fence 
at one point, while the daughter, carrying her child in her arms, and at- 
tended by the younger of the brothers, ran in a different direction. 
The blazing roof shed a light over the yard but little inferior to that of 
day, and the savages were distinctly seen awaiting the approach of their 
victims. The old lady was permitted to reach the stile unmolested, but, 
in the act of crossing, received several balls in her breast and fell dead, 
Her son, providentially, remained unhurt, and, by extraordinary agility, 
effected his escape. The other party succeeded also in reaching the 



Desperate Attack on Widow Scraggs' Cabins. 697 

fence unhurt, but, in the act of crossing, were vigorously assailed by 
several Indians, who, throwing down their guns, rushed upon them with 
their tomahawks. The young man defended his sister gallantly, firing 
upon the enemy as they approached, and then wielding the butt of his 
rifle with a fury that drew their whole attention upon himself, and 
gave his sister an opportunity of effecting her escape. He quickly fell, 
however, under the tomahawk of his enemies, and was found, at day- 
light, scalped and mangled in a shocking manner. Of the whole family, 
consisting of eight persons when the attack commenced, only three 
escaped. Four were killed upon the spot, and one (the second daugh- 
ter) carried off as a prisoner. 

The neighborhood was quickly alarmed, and by daylight about thirty 
men were assembled, under the command of Colonel Edwards. A light 
snow had fallen during the latter part of the night, and the Indian trail 
could be pursued at a gallop. It led directly into the mountainous 
country bordering on Licking, and afforded evidences of great hurry 
and precipitation on the part of the fugitives. Unfortunately, a hound 
had been permitted to accompany the whites, and as the trail became 
fresh and the scent warm, she followed it with eagerness, baying loudly 
and giving the alarm to the Indians. The consequences of this impru- 
dence were soon displayed. The enemy, finding the pursuit keen and 
perceiving that the strength of the prisoner began to fail, sunk their 
tomahawks in her head and left her, still warm and bleeding, upon the 
snow. As the whites came up, she retained strength enough to wave 
her hand in token of recognition, and appeared desirous of giving them 
some information with regard to the enemy, but her strength was too 
far gone. Her brother sprang from his horse and knelt by her side, 
endeavoring to stop the effusion of blood, but in vain. She gave him 
her hand, muttered some inarticulate words, and expired within two 
minutes after the arrival of the party. 

The pursuit was renewed with additional ardor, and in twenty min- 
utes the enemy were within view. They had taken possession of a steep, 
narrow ridge, and seemed desirous of magnifying their numbers in the 
eyes of the whites, as they ran rapidly from tree to tree, and maintained 
a steady yell in their most appalling tones. The pursuers, however, 
were too experienced to be deceived by so common an artifice, and be- 
ing satisfied that the number of the enemy must be inferior to their 
own, they dismounted, tied their horses, and flanking out in such a 
manner as to enclose the enemy, ascended the ridge as rapidly as was 
consistent with a due regard to the shelter of their persons. The firing 
quickly commenced, and now, for the first time, they discovered that 
only two Indians were opposed to them. They had voluntarily sacrificed 



698 Our Western Border. 

themselves for the safety of the main body, and had succeeded in delay- 
ing pursuit until their friends could reach the mountains. One of them 
was shot dead, and the other was badly wounded, as was evident from 
the blood upon his blanket, as well as that which filled his tracks in the 
snow for a considerable distance. The pursuit was recommenced, and 
urged keenly until night, when the trail entered a running stream and 
was lost. On the following morning the snow had melted, and every 
trace of the enemy was obliterated. This affair must be regarded as 
highly honorable to the skill, address and activity of the Indians, and 
the self-devotion of the rear guard is a lively instance of that magna- 
nimity of which they are at times capable, and which is more remark- 
able in them from the extreme caution and tender regard for their own 
lives, which usually distinguishes their warriors. 

MRS. MERRILL, THE TERRIBLE "LONG KNIFE SQUAW." 

During the Summer the house of Mr. John Merrill, of Nelson county, 
Kentucky, was attacked by the Indians, and defended with singular 
address and good fortune. Merrill was alarmed by the barking of a dog 
about midnight, and upon opening the door, in order to ascertain the 
cause of the disturbance, he received the fire of six or seven Indians, 
by which his arm and thigh were both broken. He sank upon the flooi 
and called upon his wife to shut the door. This had scarcely been done 
when it was violently assailed by the tomahawks of the enemy, and a 
large breach soon effected. Mrs. Merrill, however, being a perfect Am- 
azon, both in strength and courage, guarded it with an axe, and suc- 
cessively killed or badly wounded four of the enemy as they attempted 
to force their way into the cabin. The Indians then ascended the roof 
and attempted to enter by way of the chimney, but here, again, they 
were met by the same determined enemy. Mrs. Merrill seized the only 
feather bed which the cabin afforded, and hastily ripping it open, poured 
its contents upon the fire. A furious blaze and stifling smoke ascended 
the chimney, and quickly brought down two of the enemy, who lay 
for a few moments at the- mercy of the lady. Seizing the axe, she dis- 
patched them, and was instantly afterwards summoned to the door, 
where the only remaining savage now appeared, endeavoring to effect 
an entrance while Mrs. Merrill was engaged at the chimney. He soon 
received a gash in the cheek which compelled him, with a loud yell," to 
relinquish his purpose and return hastily to Chillicothe, where, from the 
report of a prisoner, he gave an exaggerated account of the fierceness, 
strength and courage of the "long knife squaw!" 



Mrs. Woods and the Lame Negro. 699 



MRS. WOODS AND THE LAME NEGRO. 

In the Summer of 1792 a gentleman named Woods, imprudently re- 
moved from the neighborhood of a station, and, for the benefit of his 
stock, settled on a lonely heath near Beargrass, Ky. One morning he 
left his family, consisting of a wife, a daughter not yet grown and a 
lame negro man, and rode off to the nearest station, not expecting to 
return until night. Mrs. Woods, while engaged in her dairy, was 
alarmed at seeing several Indians rapidly approaching the house. She 
instantly screamed loudly in order to give the alarm, and ran with her 
utmost speed, in order to reach the house before them. In this she 
succeeded, but had not time to close the door until the foremost Indian 
had forced his way into the house. As soon as he entered, the lame 
negro grappled him and attempted to throw him upon the floor, but 
was himself hurled to the ground with violence, the Indian falling upon 
him. 

Mrs. Woods was too busily engaged in keeping the door closed 
against the party without, to attend to the combatants, but the lame 
negro, holding the Indian in his arms, called to the young girl to cut 
his head off with a very sharp axe which lay under the bed. She at- 
tempted to obey, but struck with so trembling a hand that the blow was 
ineffectual. Repeating her efforts, under the direction of the negro, 
however, she at length wounded the Indian so badly, that the negro was 
enabled to arise and complete the execution. Elated with success, he 
then called to his mistress and told her to suffer another Indian to enter 
and they would kill them all one by one. While deliberating upon this 
proposal, however, a sharp firing was heard without, and the Indians 
quickly disappeared. A party of white men had seen them at a dis- 
tance, and, having followed them cautiously, had now interposed, at a 
very critical moment, and rescued a helpless family from almost certain 
destruction. 



FAMILY OF MRS. DAVIESS CAPTURED—A RESCUE. . 

Early one morning, in August of 1782, Samuel Daviess, a settler at 
Gilmer's Lick, Kentucky, having stepped a few paces from his cabin, 
was suddenly surprised by an Indian appearing between him and the 
door with an uplifted tomahawk, almost within striking distance; and, 
in a moment after, he perceived that four other Indians had just entered 
his dwelling. Being entirely unarmed, he made for an adjacent corn- 



700 Our Western Border. 

field, closely pursued by the first Indian. He, however, eluded the 
savage, and ran with the utmost speed to the nearest station, five miles 
distant, and raised a party to pursue the enemy, whom it was ascer- 
tained, on visiting the cabin, had taken off the whole family captive. 
After going a few miles they heard the barking of a dog, which they 
knew was the family house dog, and which the Indians, for precaution's 
sake, were undertaking to kill. They now rushed impetuously forward, 
but were discovered by the two spies in the rear, who ran forward, 
knocked down the oldest boy, and, while scalping him, were fired at, 
but without effect. Mrs. Daviess, seeing the alarm and confusion, 
saved herself and babe by jumping into a sink hole. The Indians fled 
and the whole family were rescued. So soon as the boy had risen to 
his feet, the first words he spoke were, " Curse that Indian, he has got 
my scalp." 

Mrs. Daviess related the following account of the manner in which 
the Indians had acted : A few minutes after her husband had opened 
the door and stepped out of the house, four Indians rushed in, while 
the fifth, as she afterwards found out, was in pursuit of her husband. 
Herself and children were in bed when the Indians entered the house. 
One of the Indians immediately made signs, by which she understood 
him to inquire how far it was to the next house. With an unusual 
presence of mind, knowing how important it would be to make the 
distance as far as possible, she raised both her hands, first counting the 
fingers of one, then of the other — making a distance of eight miles. 
The Indian then signed to her that she must rise : she immediately got 
up, and as soon as she could dress herself, commenced showing the 
Indians one article of clothing after another, which pleased them very 
much; and in that way delayed them at the house nearly two hours. 
In the meantime, the Indian who had been in pursuit of her husband 
returned, with his hands stained with pokeberries, which he held up, 
and with some violent gestures and waving of his tomahawk, attempted 
to induce the belief that the stain on his hands was the blood of her 
husband, and that he had killed him. She was enabled at once to dis- 
cover the deception, and instead of producing any alarm on her part, 
she was satisfied that her husband had escaped uninjured. After the 
savages had plundered the house of everything that they could conve- 
niently carry off with them, they started, taking Mrs. Daviess and her 
children, seven in number, as prisoners along with them. Some of the 
children were too young to travel as fast as the Indians wished, and 
discovering, as she believed, their intention to kill such of them as 
could not conveniently travel, she made the two oldest boys carry them 
on their back. 



Family of Mrs. Daviess Captured. 701 

Mrs. Daviess was a woman of cool, deliberate courage, and accus- 
tomed to handle the gun so that she could shoot well, as many of the 
women were in the habit of doing in those days. She had contem- 
plated, as a last resort, that if not rescued in the course of the day, when 
night came and the Indians had fallen asleep, she would rescue herself 
and children by killing as many of the Indians as she could — thinking 
that, in a night attack, as many of them as remained would most prob- 
ably run off. Such an attempt would now seem a species of madness ; 
but to those who were acquainted with Mrs. Daviess, little doubt was 
entertained that, if the attempt had been made, it would have proved 
successful. 

Kentucky, in its early days, like most new countries, was occasionally 
troubled with men of abandoned character, who lived by stealing the 
property of others, and, after committing their depredations, retired to 
their hiding places, thereby eluding the operation of the law. One of 
these marauders, a man of desperate character, who had committed ex- 
tensive thefts from Mr. Daviess, as well as from his neighbors, was pur- 
sued by Daviess and a party whose property he had taken, in order to 
bring him to justice. While the party were in pursuit, the suspected 
individual, not knowing any one was pursuing him, came to the house 
of Daviess, armed with his gun and tomahawk — no person being at 
home but Mrs. Daviess and her children. After he had stepped into 
the house, Mrs. Daviess asked him if he would drink something, and, 
having set a bottle of whiskey on the table, requested him to help him- 
self. The fellow, not suspecting any danger, set his gun up by the 
door, and, while drinking, Mrs. Daviess picked up his gun, and placing 
herself in the door, had the gun cocked and leveled upon him by the 
time he turned round, and in a peremptory manner ordered him to take 
a seat or she would shoot him. Struck with terror and alarm, he asked 
what he had done. She told him he had stolen her husband's property, 
and that she intended to take care of him herself. In that condition 
she held him a prisoner until the party of men returned and took him 
into their possession. 

In the year 1786, about twenty young persons of both sexes were in 
a field pulling flax, in the vicinity of a fort on Green river, . Kentucky, 
when they were fired on by a party of Indians in ambush. They in- 
stantly retreated towards the fort, hotly pursued by the savages. Among 
them were two married women, who had gone out to make them a visit, 
one of whom had taken with her a young child about eighteen months 
old. The older of the two mothers, recollecting in her flight that the 
younger, a small and feeble woman, was burdened with her child, 
turned back in the face of the enemy, they firing and yelling hideously. 



702 Our Western Border. 

took the child from its mother, and ran with it to the fort, nearly a 
quarter of a mile distant. During the chase she was twice shot at with 
rifles, when the enemy was so near that the powder burned her, and one 
arrow passed through her sleeve, but she escaped uninjured. 



MURDER OF THE TWO MISSES CROW. 

Next to the Tush murder, perhaps the most melancholy occurrence 
on Wheeling Creek was that of two sisters — the Misses Crow, which oc- 
curred in 1785. The parents of these girls lived about one mile above 
the mouth of Dunkard, or lower fork of the creek. According to the 
statement of a third sister, who was an eye witness to the horrid trag- 
edy and herself almost a victim, the three left their parents' house for 
an evening walk along the deeply -shaded banks of that beautiful stream. 
Their walk extended over a mile and they were just turning back, 
when suddenly several Indians sprang from behind a ledge of rocks and 
seized all three of the sisters. With scarcely a moment's interruption, 
the savages led the captives a short distance up a small bank when a 
halt was called and a parley took place. It seems that some of the In- 
dians were in favor of immediate slaughter, while others were disposed 
to carry them into permanent captivity. 

Unfortunately, the arm of mercy was powerless. Without a moment's 
warning, a fierce-looking savage stepped from the group, with elevated 
tomahawk, and commenced the work of death. This Indian, in the 
language of the surviving sister, "Began to tomahawk one of my sis- 
ters—Susan by name. Susan dodged her head to one side, the toma- 
hawk taking effect in her neck, cutting the jugular vein, the blood gush- 
ing out a yard's length. The Indian who held her hand jumped back 
to avoid the blood. The other Indian then began the work of death 
on my sister Mary. 

" I gave a sudden jerk and got loose from the one that held me and 
ran with all speed, taking up a steep bank, but just as I caught hold of 
a bush to help myself up, the Indian fired and the ball passed through 
the clump of hair on my head, slightly breaking the skin. I gained the 
top in safety, the Indian taking round in order to meet me as I would 
strike the path that led homeward. But I ran right from home and hid 
myself in the bushes near the top of the hill. Presently I saw an In- 
dian passing along the hill below me ; I lay still until he was out of 
sight; I then made for home." 



Mrs. Bozarth Slays Three Savage Intruders. 703 



MRS. BOZARTH SLAYS THREE SAVAGE INTRUDERS. 

On Dunkard Creek, now within the limits of Monongalia county, 
W. Va., lived a Mr. Bozarth, his wife and three children. The alarm 
which had caused the settlers to resort to Prickett's Fort, induced two 
or three families living convenient to Mr. Bozarth, to collect at his 
house. About the ist of April, 1789, when but two men were in the 
house with Mrs. Bozarth, the children, who had been out playing, ran 
suddenly in, crying that " Indians were coming ! " 

In order to ascertain the true cause of this alarm, one of the men 
stepped to the door and was struck upon the breast with a rifle ball, 
which knocked him back into the house. A savage sprang in after him 
and attacked the other white man with all the fury of his nature. The 
man being unarmed called for a knife, but Mrs. Bozarth, not seeing one 
at the instant, picked up an axe and killed the savage on the spot. 

While the courageous woman was thus engaged, a second Indian pre- 
sented himself at the door, and, firing, killed the man who had been 
struggling with his companion. Quick as thought, the intrepid matron 
turned upon this new comer, and, at one blow, ripped open his abdomen, 
causing the savage to yell most lustily for help. Immediately, several 
of his companions rushed to the rescue, but the invincible woman was 
ready for them. The first who attempted to enter was struck upon the 
head and his skull cleft, making the third victim to the axe of this Vir- 
ginia Amazon. The others, having drawn out the wounded savage and 
learning the strength of the house, attempted to force the door, but Mrs. 
Bozarth had so securely fastened it as to defy all their efforts. The 
savages then killed the children still in the yard and made off. 



A DESPERATE ATTACK ON THE CUNNINGHAMS. 

In the latter part of June, 1785, a small party of Indians visited the 
house of Edward Cunningham, an enterprising settler on Bingamon 
Creek, a branch of West Fork. Thomas Cunningham, the brother of 
Edward, lived in a house almost adjoining ; the two families affording 
protection thus one to another. At the time spoken of, Edward and 
his family were in one cabin, and the wife of Thomas, with her four 
children, (her husband having gone East on a trading expedition,) were 



704 Our Western Border. 

in the other. Both families were eating their dinners, when in stepped, 
before the astonished mother and children, a huge savage, with drawn 
knife and uplifted tomahawk. Conscious of his security with the 
mother and children, but fearing danger from Edward Cunningham, 
who had seen him enter, the savage quickly glanced around for some 
means of escape in an opposite direction. Edward watched the move- 
ments of the savage through an opening in the wall. 

In the other house was a similar hole, (made to introduce light,) and 
through it the Indian fired, shouting the yell of victory. It was 
answered by Edward, who had seen the aim of the savage just in time 
to escape— the bark from the log close to his head was knocked off by 
the Indian's ball, and flew in his face. The Indian, seeing that he had 
missed his object, and observing an adze in the room, deliberately com- 
menced cutting an aperture in the back wall, through which he might 
pass out without being exposed to a shot from the other building. 

Another of the Indians came into the yard just after the firing of his 
companion, but observing Edward's gun pointing through the port 
hole, endeavored to retreat out of its range. Just as he was about to 
spring the fence, a ball struck him and he fell forward. It had, how- 
ever, only fractured his thigh borie, and he was yet able to get over the 
fence and take shelter behind a quilt suspended on it, before Edward 
could again load his gun. Meantime the Indian in the house was en- 
gaged in cutting a hole through the wall, during which Mrs. Cunning- 
ham made no attempt to get out, well aware that it would only draw 
upon her head the fury of the savage ; and that if she escaped this one, 
she would probably be killed by some of those who were watching out- 
side. She knew, too, it would be impossible to take the children with 
her. She trusted in the hope that the one inside would withdraw with- 
out molesting any of them. 

A few minutes served to convince her of the hopeless folly of trusting 
to an Indian's mercy. When the opening had been made sufficiently 
large, the savage raised his tomahawk, sunk it deep into the brain of 
one of the children, and, throwing the scarcely lifeless body into the 
back yard, ordered the mother to follow him. There was no alterna- 
tive but death, and she obeyed his order, stepping over the dead body 
of one of her children, with an infant in her arms and two others 
screaming by her side. 

When all were out, he scalped the murdered boy, and, setting fire to 
the house, retired to an eminence, where two of the savages were with 
their wounded companion — leaving the other two to watch the opening 
of Edward Cunningham's door, when the burning of the house should 
force the family from their shelter, They were disappointed in their 



A Desperate Attack on the Cunninghams. 705 

expectation of that event by the exertions of Cunningham and his son. 
When the flame from the one house communicated to the roof of the 
other, they ascended to the loft, threw off the loose boards which 
covered it and extinguished the fire; the savages shooting at them all 
the while ; their balls frequently striking close by. 

Unable to force out the family of Edward Cunningham, and despair- 
ing of doing further injury, they beat a speedy retreat. Before leav- 
ing, however, the eldest son of Mrs. Thomas Cunningham was toma- 
hawked and scalped in the presence of the shuddering mother. Her 
little daughter was served the same way ; but to make the scene still 
more tragical, her head was dashed against a tree and her brains scat- 
tered about. The mother, during the whole of these bloody acts, stood 
motionless in grief, and in momentary awe of meeting a similar fate. 
But, alas ! she was reserved for a different, and, to a sensitive woman, a 
far more dreadful fate. With her helpless babe, she was led from this 
scene of carnage. The savages carried their wounded companion upon 
a litter. Crossing the ridge they found a cave near Bingamon Creek, 
in which they secreted themselves until after night, when some of the 
party returned to Edward Cunningham's, but not finding any one at 
home, fired the house and made a hasty retreat towards their own 
country. 

Mrs. Cunningham suffered untold mental and physical agonies during 
her march to the Indian towns. For ten days her only nourishment 
was the head of a wild turkey and a few paw-paws. After a long ab- 
sence, she was returned to her husband through the intercession of Simon 
Girty, who first said she would be better there than a't home ; then that 
his saddle bags were too small to conceal her, but who finally ransomed 
her and sent her home. This one single act should redeem his memory 
from a multitude of sins. 

After the savages had withdrawn, Cunningham went with his family 
into the woods, where they remained all night, there being no settlement 
nearer than ten miles. In the morning the alarm was given, and a 
company of men soon collected to go in pursuit of the Indians. When 
they came to Cunningham's they found both houses heaps of ashes. 
They buried the bones of the boy who was murdered in the house, with 
the bodies of his brother and little sister, who were killed in the field ; 
but so cautiously had the savages conducted their retreat, that no traces 
of them could be discovered and the men returned to their homes. 

Subsequently, a second party started in pursuit and traced them to 
the cave, but it was found the enemy had left the night previous, and 
all hope of effecting a successful pursuit was given over. After her re- 
turn from captivity, Mrs. Cunningham stated that at the time of the 
45 



706 Our Western Border. 

search on the first day the Indians were in the cave, and that several 
times the whites approached so near that she could distinctly hear their 
voices \ the savages standing with their guns ready to fire in the event 
of being discovered, and forcing her to keep the infant to her breast, 
lest its cry might indicate their place of concealment. 



CAPTIVITY AND WANDERINGS OF MRS. FRANCES SCOTT. 

Mr. Scott, a citizen of Washington county, Virginia, had his house 
attacked on Wednesday night, June 29th, 1785, and himself, with four 
children, butchered upon the spot. 

Early in the evening a considerable body of Indians passed his house 
and encamped within a couple of miles. Himself and family had re- 
tired, with the exception of Mrs. Scott, who was in the act of undress- 
ing when the painted savages rushed in and commenced the work of 
death. 

Mr. Scott being awake, jumped up, but was immediately fired at ; he 
forced his way through the midst of the enemy and got out of the door, 
but fell. An Indian seized Mrs. Scott and ordered her to a particular 
spot and not to move. Others stabbed and cut the throats of the three 
younger children in their bed, and afterwards lifting them up, dashed 
them on the floor near the mother ; the oldest, a beautiful girl of eight 
years, awoke, escaped out of bed, ran to her parent, and, with the most 
plaintive accents, -cried, " O mama ! mama ! save me!" The mother, 
in the deepest anguish of spirit and with a flood of tears, entreated the 
savages to spare her child ; but with a brutal fierceness they tomahawked 
and scalped her in the mother's arms. 

Adjacent to Mr. Scott's dwelling house another family lived, of the 
name of Ball. The Indians attacked them at the same time ; but the 
door being shut, the enemy fired into the house through an opening be- 
tween two logs and killed a young lad. They then tried to force the 
door, but a surviving brother fired through and drove them off. The 
remaining part of the family ran out of the house and escaped. In 
Mr. Scott's house were four good rifles, well loaded, and a good deal of 
clothing and furniture ; part of which belonged to people that had left 
it on their way to Kentucky. The Indians, being thirteen in number, 
loaded themselves with the plunder, then speedily made off and contin- 
ued traveling all night. Next morning their chief allotted to each man 
his share, and detached nine of the party to steal horses from the in- 
habitants on Clinch river. 



Captivity and Wanderings of Mrs. Frances Scott. 707 

The eleventh day after Mrs. Scott's captivity, the four Indians who 
had her in charge stopped at a place of rendezvous to hunt. Three 
went out, and the chief, being an old man, was left to take care of the 
prisoner, who, by this time, expressed a willingness to proceed to the 
Indian towns, which seemed to have the desired effect of lessening her 
keeper's vigilance. In the daytime, as the old man was graining a 
deerskin, the captive, pondering on her situation and anxiously look- 
ing for an opportunity to make her escape, took the resolution, and went 
to the Indian carelessly, asked liberty to go a small distance to a stream 
of water to wash the blood off her apron, that had remained besmeared 
since the fatal night of the murder of her little daughter. He told her, 
in the English tongue, " Go along ! " She then passed by him, his 
face being in a contrary direction from that she was going, and he very 
busy. 

After getting to the water, she went on without delay towards a high, 
barren mountain, and traveled until late in the evening, when she came 
down into the valley in search of the track she had been taken along, 
hoping thereby to find the way back without risk of being lost and 
perishing with hunger in uninhabited parts. That night she made her- 
self a bed with leaves, and the next day resumed her wanderings. Thus 
did that poor woman continue from day to day, and week to week, 
wandering in the trackless wilderness. Finally, on the nth of August, 
she reached a settlement on Clinch river, known as New Garden. 

Mrs. Scott related, that during her wanderings from the ioth of July 
to the nth of August, she had no other subsistence but chewing and 
swallowing the juice of young cane, sassafras, and some plants she did 
not know the name of; that, on her journey, she saw buffalo, elk, deer 
and frequently bears and wolves, not one of which, although some 
passed very near, offered to do her the least harm. One day a bear 
came near her, with a young fawn in his mouth, and, on discovering her, 
he dropped his prey and ran off. Hunger prompted her to try and eat 
the flesh ; but, on reflection, she desisted, thinking that the bear might 
return and devour her ; besides she had an aversion to raw meat. 

Mrs. Scott long continued in a low state of health, and remained in- 
consolable at the loss of her family, particularly bewailing the cruel 
death of her little daughter. 



708 Our Western Border. 



REBECCA BOONE, AND HOW DANIEL WON HER, 

The first woman who went to Kentucky was Rebecca Boone, and a 
most noble, heroic and excellent wife and mother she was in every re- 
spect. Here is the way Daniel Boone is said to have won her. It will 
be remembered Boone's father lived on the Yadkin, N. C. 

Daniel was once, when a young man, out on a "fire hunt," with what 
might be called a "boone companion." They had got into a heavily- 
timbered piece of "bottom," skirted by a small stream which bordered 
the plantation of a Mr. Morgan Bryan, (a very respectable farmer and 
head of a family,) the hunter's friend preceding him with the "fire 
pan," when all at once Boone quietly gave the concerted signal to stop — 
an indication that he had "shined the eyes" of a deer. Dismounting 
and tying his horse, he then crept cautiously forward — his rifle at a 
present — behind a covert of hazel and plum bushes, and, sure enough ! 
there again were the two blue, liquid orbs turned full upon him. 

Boone now raised his fatal rifle, but a mysterious something — only 
tender lovers can say what — arrested his arm and caused his hand to 
tremble — when off sprang the startled game with a bound and a rustle, 
and the ardent young hunter in hot chase after it. On ! on ! they go ; 
when, lo and behold ! a fence appears, over which the nimble deer 
vaulted in a strangely human sort of a way, while Boone, burdened 
with his rifle and hunting gear, clambered after as best he could. Another 
kind and differently spelled deer now takes possession of Boone's fancy, 
as he sees Bryan's house in the distance. "I will chase this pet deer 
to its covert," thinks he, and so, fighting his way through a score of 
snarling and scolding hounds, he knocked at the door, and was ad- 
mitted and welcomed by farmer Bryan. The young hunter, panting 
from his recent exertions, had scarce time to throw his eyes about in- 
quiringly, before a boy of ten, and a flushed and breathless girl of six- 
teen, with ruddy cheeks, flaxen hair and soft blue eyes, rushed into the 
room. 

" Oh, father! father!" excitedly cried out young hopeful. "Sis was 
down to the creek to set my lines, and was chased by a ' painter ' or 
something. She's too skeared to tell." The "painter" and "deer" 
were now engaged in exchanging glances, and apparently the eyes of 
both had been most effectually "shined," for, to make a long story 
short, that is how Rebecca Bryan became Rebecca Boone, and a most 
excellent wife she made. 



Mad Ann Bailey, of West Virginia. 709 



"MAD ANN BAILEY," OF WEST VIRGINIA. 

What a strange, wild, solitary life this woman led, as we find it living 
in border chronicles ! It is said that " Hell hath no fury like a woman 
scorned." Neither hath it any like a woman wronged and thoroughly 
imbued with the spirit of vengeance. There was a wild, unnatural 
brightness in her sharp, gray eyes, and a mocking jeer in her loud, 
grating laugh. One could scarce help pitying while he shuddered to 
see a woman, who should be tender and affectionate, cherished and 
protected by the love of friends and children and surrounded with 
every care and comfort, so thoroughly unsexed; roaming alone the 
vast wilderness solitudes and exposed to all the spiteful elements. She 
was a veritable Meg Merriles — a thorough gypsy in look, habit and 
vagabondage. 

Her maiden name was Hennis, and she was raised at Liverpool, emi- 
grating to America with her husband, Richard Trotter, who was a vol- 
unteer in Dunmore's war of 1774, and fell fighting at the bloody Indian 
battle of Point Pleasant. From the period of his death she became 
possessed with a strange, savage spirit of revenge against the Indians. 
She was somewhat disordered in her intellect \ forsook her sewing and 
spinning and commenced practicing with the rifle, casting the toma- 
hawk, hunting the wild game of the forests, and riding about the country 
to every muster of scouts or hunters. She even discarded female at- 
tire, and differed little in appearance from the ordinary scout of the 
border. The rifle was her constant companion ; she frequently carried 
off the prizes at the various shooting matches ; spent most of her time 
scouring the woods, with no companion but a powerful black horse, 
which she called Liverpool, after her birthplace. 

She was much esteemed by the people of West Virginia, having once 
performed an inestimable service for the beleaguered garrison of 
Charleston Fort by riding day and night, amid appalling perils, a dis- 
tance of two hundred miles through the savage wilds and unbroken 
forests of West Virginia, and procuring a supply of powder from Camp 
Union (now Lewisburg). With a led horse weighted down with am- 
munition, she resolutely commenced her return 5 her trail followed by 
packs of ravenous wolves or still more dangerous redskins, sleeping by 
night amid the profound solitudes of the wilderness and on spreads of 
boughs raised high on stakes to protect her from venomous snakes or 
savage beasts ; crossing raging torrents, breasting craggy heights ; ever 



710 Our Western Border. 

watching for Indian ''sign," but ever avoiding Indian attacks, until she 
heroically delivered her powder and saved the fort. She afterwards 
took her place among the men in defending the place, and used to 
boast that she had fired many a shot at her foes. 

Strange, that such an odd, rugged, intractable character should ever, 
even for a day, allow the soft passion of love to usurp the place of her 
fierce and cruel revenge ! Stranger still, that any mortal man could 
be found who would be attracted by such a wild, stormy, riotous spirit. 
He must have " wooed her as the lion wooes his bride," where the 
mutual caresses and encounters of love pass amid savage roars and 
growls and rude buffetings. But a man did woo, and win her, too, and 
his name it was Bailey, and so she became Mrs. Ann Bailey. 

Whether he ever "tamed this shrew" history sayeth not, but we read 
that her unquenchable spirit and audacity, in spite of her many eccen- 
tricities, greatly endeared her to the whole border. She engaged in the 
hunt of deer, bear and panther; was, during the Indian troubles, em- 
ployed as fort messenger, and afterwards — mounted on her famed black 
hunter — used to visit many of the chief people of West Virginia, re- 
turning laden down with gifts. 



THE BEAUTIFUL AND DASHING LOUISA ST. CLAIR. 

In the Winter of 1790, the Governor of the Northwest Territory, 
General Arthur St. Clair, removed his family from his plantation at 
"Potts' Grove," in Westmoreland county, Pa., to Marietta, O. One of 
his daughters, Louisa, was long remembered as one of the most dis- 
tinguished among the ladies of that day. In strength and elasticity of 
frame, blooming health, energy and fearlessness, she was the ideal of a 
soldier's daughter, extremely fond of adventure and frolic, and ready 
to draw amusement from everything around her. She was a fine eques- 
trian, and would manage the most spirited horse with perfect ease and 
grace, dashing at full gallop through the open woodland surrounding 
the "Campus Martius," and leaping over logs or any obstacle in her 
way. She was also expert in skating, and was rivaled by few, if any, 
young men in the garrison, in the speed, dexterity and grace of move- 
ment with which she exercised herself in this accomplishment. 

The elegance of her person, and her neat, well-fitting dress, were 
shown to great advantage in her rapid gyrations over the broad sheet 
of ice in the Muskingum, which, for a few days in Winter, offered a fine 



Mrs. Mason Kills One and Frightens a Score. 711 

field, close to the garrison, for this healthful sport ; and loud were the 
plaudits from young and old, from spectators of both sexes, called forth 
by the performance of the Governor's daughter. As a huntress she was 
equally distinguished, and might have served as a model for a Diana, in 
her rambles through the forest, had she been armed with a bow instead 
of a rifle, of which latter instrument she was perfect mistress, loading 
and firing with the accuracy of a backwoodsman, killing a squirrel on 
the top of the tallest tree, or cutting off the head of a partridge with 
wonderful precision. She was fond of roaming through the woods, 
and often went out alone into the forest near Marietta, fearless of the 
savages who often lurked in the vicinity. As active on foot as on horse- 
back, she could walk several miles with the untiring rapidity of a prac- 
ticed ranger. 

Notwithstanding her possession of these unfeminine attainments, 
Miss St. Clair's refined manners would have rendered her the ornament 
of any drawing-room circle ; she was beautiful in person, and had an in- 
tellect highly cultivated, having received a carefully finished education 9 
under the best teachers in Philadelphia. Endowed by nature with a 
vigorous constitution and lively animal spirits, her powers, both of body 
and mind, had been strengthened by such athletic exercises, to the prac- 
tice of which she had been encouraged from childhood by her father. He 
had spent the greater part of his life in camps, and was not disposed to 
fetter by conventional rules his daughter's rare spirit, so admirably suited 
to pioneer times and manners, however like an Amazon she may seem 
to the less independent critics of female manners at the present day. 
After the Indian war, Miss St. Clair returned to her early home in the 
romantic glens of Ligonier valley. 



MRS. MASON KILLS ONE AND FRIGHTENS A SCORE. 

In the beginning of 1794, a party of Indians killed George Mason, 
on Flat Creek, twelve miles from Knoxville, Tenn. In the night he 
heard a noise in his stable, and stepped out; was intercepted before he 
could return, by the savages, and fled, but was fired upon and wounded. 
He reached a cave, from which he was dragged out and murdered, and 
the Indians returned to the house to dispatch his wife and children. 
Mrs. Mason heard them talking as they approached, and hoped her 
neighbors, aroused by the firing, had come to her assistance. But 
perceiving that the conversation was neither in English nor German, 



712 Our Western Border. 

she knew they were enemies. She had that very morning learned how 
to set the double trigger of a rifle. Fortunately the children were not 
awakened, and she took care not to disturb them. She had shut the 
door, barred it with benches and tables, and taking down her husband's 
well-charged rifle, placed herself directly opposite the opening which 
would be made by forcing the door. Her husband came not, and she 
was but too well convinced he had been slain. She was alone in dark- 
ness, and the yelling savages were pressing on the house. Pushing with 
great violence, they gradually opened the door wide enough to attempt 
an entrance, and the body of one was thrust into the opening and filled 
it, two or three more urging him forward. Mrs. Mason set the trigger 
of the rifle, put the muzzle near the body of the foremost and fired. 
The first Indian fell; the next uttered the scream of mortal agony. The 
intrepid woman observed profound silence, and the savages were led to 
believe that armed men were in the house. They withdrew, took three 
horses from the stable and set it on fire. It was afterwards ascertained 
that this high-minded woman had saved herself and children from the 
attack of over twenty assailants. 



ESCAPE OF HANNAH DENNIS—MRS. CLENDENIN. 

In 1 761 a party of sixty Shawnees invaded the James river, Va., set- 
tlements and killed many, among others Joseph Dennis and child, and 
making prisoner his wife, Hannah. The Indians took her over the 
mountains and through the forests to the Chillicothe towns north of the 
Ohio. There she seemed to conform to their ways, painted and dressed 
herself and lived as a squaw. Added to this, she gained fame by at- 
tending to the sick, both as a nurse and a physician; and became so 
celebrated for her cures as to obtain from that superstitious people the 
reputation of being a necromancer, and the honor paid to a person sup- 
posed to have power with the Great Spirit. 

In 1763 she left them, under the pretext of obtaining medicinal herbs, 
as she had often done before. Not returning at night, her object was 
suspected and she was pursued. To avoid leaving traces Of her path, 
she crossed the Scioto three times, and was making her fourth crossing, 
forty miles below the towns, when she was discovered and fired upon 
without effect. But in the speed of her flight, she wounded her foot 
with a sharp stone, so as to be unable to proceed. The Indians had 
crossed the river, and were just behind her. She eluded their pursuit 
by hiding in a hollow sycamore log. They frequently stepped on the 



Escai-e of Hannah Dennis. 713 

log that concealed her, and encamped near it for the night. Next 
morning they proceeded in their pursuit of her; and she started in an- 
other direction as fast as her lameness would permit, but was obliged to 
remain near that place three days. She then set off for the Ohio, over 
which she rafted herself, at the mouth of the Great Kanawha, on a drift 
log; traveling only by night, through fear of discovery, and subsisting 
only on roots, wild fruits and the river shell-fish, she reached the 
Green Briar, having passed forests, rivers and mountains for more than 
three hundred miles. Here she sank down exhausted and resigned 
herself to die, when, providentially, she was discovered by some of the 
people of that settlement, and hospitably treated at one of their habi- 
tations. 

The settlement was made to suffer severely for this hospitable act. 
A party of fifty or sixty Shawnees, coming under the garb of friend- 
ship, suddenly fell upon the men, butchering every one of them, and 
made captives of the women and children. They next visited the Lev- 
els, where Archibald Clendenin had erected a rude block-house, and 
where were gathered quite a number of families — and were here again 
entertained with hospitality. Mr. Clendenin had just brought in three 
f}ne elk, upon which the savages feasted sumptuously. One of the in- 
mates was a decrepid old woman, with an ulcerated limb; she undressed 
the member, and asked an Indian if he could cure it. "Yes," he re- 
plied, and immediately sunk his tomahawk into her head. This was the 
signal, and instantly every man in the house was put to death. 

The cries of the women and children alarmed a man in the yard, who 
escaped and reported the circumstances to the settlement at Jackson's 
river. The people were loth to believe him, but were soon convinced, 
for the savages appeared, and many of the flying families were mas- 
sacred without mercy. The prisoners were then marched off in the 
direction of the Ohio. Mrs. Clendenin proved herself in that trying 
moment a woman fit to be one of the mothers of the West. Indignant 
at the treachery and cowardly conduct of the wretches, she did not fail 
to abuse them from the chief down, in the most unmeasured manner. 
The savages, to intimidate her, would flap the bloody scalp of her dead 
husband against her face, and significantly twirl their tomahawks above 
her head, but still the courageous woman talked to them like one who 
felt her injuries and resolved to express the feeling. On the day after 
her captivity, she had an opportunity to escape, and giving her infant 
to a woman, slipped unobserved into a thicket. The child soon begin- 
ning to cry, one of the Indians inquired concerning the mother; but 
getting no satisfactory reply, swore he would "bring the cow to the 
calf," and taking the infant by the heels dashed out its brains against a 



714 Our Western Border. 

tree. Mrs. Clendenin returned to her desolate home, and secured the 
remains of her husband from the rapacious jaws of the wild animals 
with which the woods abounded. It is stated that a black woman, in 
escaping from Clendenin's house, killed her own child to prevent its 
cries attracting the attention of the savages. 



MRS. CUNNINGHAM ATTACKS TWO SAVAGES. 

Early in 1778 an attack was made on a block-house in the country 
of the Upper Monongahela. The children allowed to play outside dis- 
covered Indians and, running in, gave the alarm. John Murphy 
stepped to the door, when one of the Indians, turning the corner of the 
house, fired at him. The ball took effect and Murphy fell into the 
house. The Indian springing in, was grappled by Harbert, and thrown 
on the floor. A shot from without wounded Harbert, yet he continued 
to maintain his advantage over the prostrate savage, striking him as 
effectually as he could with his tomahawk, when another gun was fired 
from without, the ball passing through his head. His antagonist then 
slipped out at the door, badly wounded in the encounter. 

Just after the first Indian entered, an active young warrior, holding .a 
tomahawk with a long spike at the end, came in. Edward Cunning- 
ham instantly drew up his gun, but it flashed, and they closed in doubt- 
ful strife. Both were active and athletic; each put forth his strength 
and strained every nerve to gain the ascendency. For a while the issue 
seemed doubtful. At length, by great exertion, Cunningham wrenched 
the tomahawk from the hand of the Indian, and buried the spike end to 
the handle in his back. Mrs. Cunningham closed the contest. Seeing 
her husband struggling with the savage, she struck at him with an axe. 
The edge wounding his face severely, he loosened his hold and made 
his way out of the house. The third Indian who had entered before 
the door was closed, presented an appearance almost as frightful as the 
object he had in view. He wore a cap made of the unshorn front of a 
buffalo, with the ears and horns still attached, and hanging loosely about 
his head. On entering the room this hideous monster aimed a blow 
with his tomahawk at Miss Reece, which inflicted a severe wound on 
her hand. The mother, seeing the uplifted weapon about to descend on 
her daughter, seized the monster by the horns; but his false head coming 
off, she did not succeed in changing the direction of the weapon. The 
father then caught hold of him; but, far inferior in strength, he was 



Heroic Defence by the Two Widows Cook. 715 

thrown on the floor, and would have been killed, but for the inter- 
ference of Cunningham, who, having cleared the house of one Indian, 
wheeled and struck his tomahawk into the head of the other. During 
all this time the door was kept secure by the women. The Indians 
from without endeavored several times to force it, and would at one 
time have succeeded; but, just as it was yielding, the Indian who had 
been wounded by Cunningham and his wife, squeezed out, causing a 
momentary relaxation of their efforts, and enabling the women again to 
close it. 

On the nth of April some Indians visited the house of William Mor- 
gan, on Dunker's Bottom. They killed his mother and two or three 
others, and took the wife and her child prisoners. On their way home, 
coming near Prickett's Fort, they bound Mrs. Morgan to a bush, and 
went in quest of a horse for her to ride, leaving the child with her. 
She succeeded in untying, with her teeth, the bands which confined 
her, and wandered all that day and part of the next, before she came 
within sight of the fort. Here she was kindly treated and in a few 
days sent home. 



HEROIC DEFENCE BY THE TWO WIDOWS COOK. 

In 1 791 two brothers, Jesse and Hosea Cook, and others, formed a 
settlement on the Elk Horn, at Innes' Bottom. In April, '92, an attack 
by about a hundred savages was made, and first upon the Cooks, who 
were out shearing sheep. The elder fell dead at once, but the younger 
reached his cabin and then expired. The two newly-made widows in- 
stantly secured the strong door. With them were three children — two 
white and one black. The savages shot at the door, but their balls 
failed to penetrate. They then tried to cut it down, but with no better 
success. 

There was a rifle in the house, but no balls could be found. One of 
the women, in this extremity, found one ball, and placing it in her 
teeth, such was her excitement, actually bit it in two. With one half 
she instantly loaded her rifle. Peering cautiously through a crevice, she 
observed one savage seated on a log at a little distance off and fearing 
nothing. Taking quick aim she fired, when the astounded savage gave 
a loud yell, bounded into the air, and fell dead in his tracks. The in- 
furiated savages now climbed to the roof of the cabin, and there 
kindled a fire. The flames began to crackle, but the resolution of the 
heroic females below was equal to the occasion. One instantly 



716 Our Western Border. 

climbed to the loft, and the other handing her water, the fire was put 
out. Again and again was the roof fired. The water failing, the un- 
daunted women broke eggs and threw the contents on the fire. The 
next recourse was the bloody waistcoat of the dead husband. Not 
enough ! and now they used the contents of the chamber bucket, and 
at last quenched the flames. The savages then becoming frightened, 
descended. 

Meanwhile a young man named McAndre had ridden off to give the 
alarm, and some of the Indians climbed neighboring trees and kept a 
sharp lookout. One of them from thence fired a ball into the cabin 
loft, which cut off a hank of yarn near Mrs. Cook's head, but that was 
all. A body of seventy-five hunters soon collected and made pursuit, 
but the main body of marauders had crossed the Ohio. The rest 
lingered and were attacked. The whites fired and the hindmost savage 
fell mortally wounded, but on one of the whites rushing his horse 
through the tall grass to the spot, the dying Indian raised his rifle and 
shot him through the heart. He then staggered to his feet, and was 
attempting to reach the nearest thicket, when he fell dead, pierced with 
twenty balls. 



"THAT'S JOHN'S GUN ! "— A WIDOW WON AT LAST. 

At the disastrous battle of the Blue Licks there were a few reported 
slain who had been captured, and, after running the gauntlet, had been 
allowed to live. Among them was a certain husband, who, with eleven 
other captives, had been painted black as a signal of death. The whole 
twelve were stripped and placed on a log, the husband being at one ex- 
tremity. The cruel savages now slaughtered eleven, one by one, but 
when they came to this one, though they drew their knives and toma- 
hawks over him ready to strike, they paused and had an animated pow- 
wow, ending in sparing his life — why he never could find out. 

For over a year his wife awaited his return, hopeful against all argu- 
ments to the contrary. She almost gave up at last, but, wooed by 
another, she postponed the day from time to time, declaring she could 
not shake off the belief that her husband would yet come back. Her 
friends reasoned on her folly ; she reluctantly yielded, and the nuptial 
day was fixed. But, just before it dawned, the crack of a familiar rifle 
was heard near her lonely cabin. At the welcome sound she leaped out 
like a liberated fawn, ejaculating as she sprang, " That's John's gun ! 



Ruth Sevier Marries a Shawnee Chief. 717 

That's John's gun ! " It was John's gun, sure enough, and in an in- 
stant she was again in her beloved husband's arms. Nine years later, 
however, that same husband did really fall at St. Clair's defeat, and the 
same persevering lover renewed his suit and at last won the widow. 



RUTH SEVIER MARRIES A SHAWNEE CHIEF. 

Ruth Sparks was a famous character on the Tennessee border. She 
was the second daughter of General Sevier and the famous Catharine 
Sherrill. She was a girl of uncommon nerve and spirit. Without any 
regular schooling, she made rapid progress, having been gifted by na- 
ture with an active mind, a ready apprehension and great strength of 
purpose. 

She was a great friend to the Indians, and learned not only the names 
of the chiefs but many of the warriors. She learned all she could from 
them of manners of living and domestic customs. Her father had been 
very kind to thirty of their race who had been taken and kept liberally 
by him. Ten of these had remained for three years at Sevier's resi- 
dence. Ruth was greatly beloved by all of them. They taught her 
their language, and when they went back to their tribe were never 
tired of sounding her praises, predicting that " Chuckas Ruth make 
chief's wife some day," a prediction that was soon after amply verified. 

Many instances are given of Ruth's spirit and courage. Once she 
gave notice of the approach of tories in time enough for her mother to 
have the most valuable of her effects removed to an old lime kiln. On 
another occasion, while bathing in the stream with some Indian girls, 
she saw enemies lurking near the banks and gave timely warning. Once, 
when crossing the same stream with an Indian girl, she was nearly 
drowned, and was rescued by two of the Cherokee captives above allu- 
ded to. She had learned in childhood to shoot well with a rifle, and 
was a far better shot than many of the hunters. 

Among some children that were captured in Kentucky and carried to 
the Indian towns on the Scioto was a boy of about four. He was 
adopted by a head chief of the Shawnees, who had two sons of about 
the same age — the famous Tecumseh and his brother, the Prophet. 
The boy was called in adoption Shawtunte — a name changed after re- 
lease to Richard Sparks. Shawtunte remained with the Indians until 
he was sixteen, becoming a thorough Indian. Some time before Wayne's 
victories he was exchanged and proceeded to Kentucky, and thence to 



VI 8 Our Western Border. 

the settlements on the Holston and Nolachucka. He soon managed to 
make the acquaintance of General Sevier, who was deeply interested 
in his history, and learned all he could about the northern Indians and 
his various adventures. His "moving accidents by flood and field." 
"These things to hear would Ruth seriously incline," and conceived 
quite an interest for the young chief. 

General Sevier exerted his influence to procure an appointment for 
Shawtunte, and he soon obtained a Captain's commission and did ser- 
vice as a scout. He stood high as an officer and a gentleman. All this 
ended by his becoming deeply enamored of Ruth; and it is no 
wonder, for in symmetry of form and grace of attitude she was un- 
rivaled. It was said of her, that "she never was the least awkward. 
She never sat, stood or walked but with a native ease and grace that 
was perfect, and she was always a figure for a painter." She had regu- 
lar features, fair complexion, laughing blue eyes and an expressive 
mouth. She was, besides, frank, cheerful, sociable and a good talker. 

Ruth returned the attachment, and the marriage came off, Richard 
not then knowing how to read or write. His charming bride became 
his teacher, and he soon made rapid progress. He was soon promoted 
to a Colonelcy in the United States Army, and, in 1 80 1-2, was stationed 
at Fort Pickering, now Memphis. When Louisiana was purchased, 
Colonel Sparks took his regiment to New Orleans, his wife acting as his 
secretary, keeping his accounts, writing his reports, &c. During her 
residence there, some of the Choctaws — who knew her and had heard 
of Shawtunte's history — called almost daily at her house, bringing ven- 
ison, ducks and turkeys. After residing South ten years Colonel Sparks 
resigned on account of ill health, and returned to Tennessee and thence 
to Staunton, where he died in 181 5. His widow afterwards contracted 
a second marriage with a wealthy Mississippi planter, having a beautiful 
plantation near Port Gibson. She died in 1824, while on a visit to 
Kentucky. She never had any children, although extremely fond ot 
them, and was an exemplary Christian. 



THE "ISAAC AND REBECCA" OF WEST VIRGINIA. 

Rebecca, the Jewess, was not, in her time, more celebrated for her 
skill and success in treating wounds than was Rebecca Williams all 
along the Ohio border. She very early in life became a widow, her 
husband having been killed, together with one of her uncles, by savages, 
in 1770. Her father was the first settler west of Fort Pitt, having 
located on Grave Creek, below Wheeling, even before the Zanes settled 



The "Isaac and Rebecca" of West Virginia. 719 

the latter place. Here she kept house for her two brothers, and would 
remain entirely alone for whole weeks in her cabin, while they were ab- 
sent on hunting excursions. She never knew what fear was. 

In 1774, immediately after the massacre of Logan's relatives at 
Baker's Station, she paid a visit to her sister, who had married Mr. 
Baker, and returned as she came, all alone, in a canoe, a distance of 
fifty miles. She "paddled her own canoe" till dark; made for the 
wilderness shore to wait for the moon to rise, and fastened it in a clump 
of willows, where she landed and waited. On stepping again into her 
canoe she happened to tread on something cold and soft, and, stooping 
down, discovered, to her horror, that it was a human body. The pale 
moonlight streamed upon the ghastly face of a dead savage, evidently 
not long killed. Rebecca recoiled at first, but uttered no scream, for in 
that was peril. She stepped over the corpse, entered her canoe and 
reached Grave Creek before morning. 

The next Summer, while alone and kindling her fire in her cabin, she 
heard steps, and on turning about saw a gigantic savage standing close 
by. He shook his tomahawk threateningly, and motioned her to 
silence. He then looked around the cabin for plunder. Seeing her 
brother's rifle hanging over the 'fireplace, he seized it and went out. 
Rebecca showed no fear, but when he left hid in the corn till her 
brother's return. 

The next year the youthful widow married Isaac Williams, a man 
after her own heart — a hunter and scout as absolutely devoid of fear as 
she was herself. On account of constant Indian marauds, they moved 
to near Redstone Fort, on the Monongahela, and after to Fort Henry. 
While there she and Mrs. Colonel Zane nursed Mills (whose case is 
mentioned elsewhere) back to perfect health. While spearing fish by 
moonlight, he received no less than fourteen bullet wounds. With 
warm fomentations and Indian herb applications, they not only cured 
every wound, but saved an arm and leg that were broken, and which all 
said must come off. 

In consideration of her faithful services to them, her two brothers 
had given her four hundred acres of land just opposite the mouth of the 
Muskingum, where Marietta, the oldest settlement in Ohio, was 
located. To this point Isaac and Rebecca Williams removed and ever 
after lived, and, like Isaac and Rebecca of old, were given to hospitality 
and good deeds. In 1790 there happened a dreadful famine. Many 
of the new settlers were completely destitute. Old, mouldy corn went 
up to a fabulous price. Williams, however, had a large stock of good 
corn, with which he refused to speculate, but distributed to all who 
needed. 



Chapter XIL 



PLUCK AND SPIRIT OF THE BORDER BOYS. 

I ween you would have seen with joy 
The bearing of the gallant boy, 
When worthy of his noble sire, 
His wet cheek glowed 'twixt fear and ire: 
He faced the bloodhound manfully, 
And held his little bat on high ; 
So fierce he struck, the dog, afraid, 
At cautious distance hoarsely bayed, 
But still in act to spring. 

The above lines, by Walter Scott, fittingly portray the heir of Brank- 
some — the gallant son of a bold border chief. Like father, like son, 
and the boys of the American border, having sires of extraordinary 
courage, and being environed from their very infancy with perils of 
uncommon character, were cool, bold, intrepid and fearless, frequently 
loving danger for the danger's sake. 

If a path were dangerous known, 
The danger's self was lure alone. 

Wary as loons, and wild and hardy as young partridges, every sense 
was on the alert. Accustomed from the cradle to the most appalling 
perils, and to take amazing hazards ; liable to run athwart of lurking 
savages every day and in every woodland walk, familiarity bred con- 
tempt. Judge Hall mentions the characteristic incident of a pioneer 
woman who, on witnessing the quiet and peaceful death of a young 
man in his bed, declared it to be a " most beautiful sight." Appro- 
priate enough for those who lived amid scenes of storm, violence and 
bloodshed, and who rarely witnessed a natural death. Border chroni- 
cles are full of incidents of youthful heroism, and subjoined are a few 
selections. They speak for themselves, and need no further comment 
from us. 



Remarkable Exploit of the Johnson Boys, 721 



REMARKABLE EXPLOIT OF THE JOHNSON BOYS. 

No event of border history can exceed, for coolness and daring, the 
exploit of two little brothers, John and Henry Johnson — the former 
thirteen and the latter only eleven years of age. Their parents lived 
near the mouth of Short Creek, West Virginia. The facts of the case 
have been very much mixed up by local chroniclers, but we condense the 
veracious narrative of the tragedy, written for De Hass by Henry him- 
self, who, in 1 85 1, lived at Antioch, Ohio. 

One day, in October, 1788, they went about a mile from the house to 
look for a hat which one of them had lost, and were sitting on a log by 
the roadside cracking nuts. They soon saw two men approaching, whom 
they took for two neighbors, but when the two came up they found "they 
were black." They sat still, and one said, "How do, brodder." John, 
the thirteen-year old, asked if they were Indians, and they said yes, 
and that the boys must go with them. 

They took up their march, one of the savages in advance the other 
in the rear, and after traveling some distance, halted in a deep hollow. 
The two boys saw them whet their knives and heard them talk in their 
strange tongue, and thought they were about to be killed ; but Henry 
states he felt no alarm, as he thought he would rather die than go with 
them, but was troubled that his parents would be fretting after them. 
John went up to the Indians, and, with great art, said his father was 
cross and made him work hard, and that he would rather be a hunter 
and live in the woods, all which seemed to please them, and they talked 
quite pleasantly. The two were Delawares— one a prominent chief — and 
they asked John many questions, and seemed well informed about the 
name and force of every border fort and station. They concluded by 
asking him if he knew the way home, and John, though knowing well, 
pointed the wrong way every time, which made them laugh. 

They halted for the night about four miles from where they were 
first taken, and, as evening closed in, Henry became fretful, when John 
encouraged him by whispering that they must kill their captors that 
night. After they had selected a sleeping place and struck a fire, one 
of them reprimed his gun and went to an old stump to get some tinder 
wood. John then seized the gun and would have fired had not his 
brother taken hold of it and prevented, as the other might be close by, 
and told him if he would wait for night he would help. After supper 
they all sat down and talked for some time, the savages asking many 
46 



722 Our Western Border. 

questions, and stating that they never could catch his father's black 
horse that wore the bell. From this point we will quote from Henry's 
own narrative: 

"We then went to bed on the naked ground, to rest and study out 
the best mode of attack. They put us between them, that they might 
be the better able to guard us. After a while one of the Indians, sup- 
posing we were asleep, got up and stretched himself on the other side 
of the fire, and soon began to snore. John, who had been watching 
every motion, found they were sound asleep. He whispered to me to 
get up, which we did as carefully as possible. John took the gun with 
which the Indian had struck fire, cocked it, and fixed it on a log in the di- 
rection of the head of one of the Indians. He then took a tomahawk 
and drew it over the head of the other Indian. At the word, I pulled 
the trigger and he struck at the same instant : the blow, falling too far 
back on the neck, only stunned the Indian. He attempted to spring to 
his feet, uttering most hideous yells, but my brother repeated the blows 
with such effect that the conflict became terrible, and somewhat doubtful. 

"The Indian, however, was forced to yield to the blows he received on 
his head, and, in a short time, he lay quiet at our feet. The one that 
was shot never moved ; and, fearing there were others close by, we 
hurried off, and took nothing with us but the gun I shot with. They 
had told us we would see Indians about to-morrow, so we thought that 
there was a camp of Indians close by ; and fearing the report of the 
gun, the Indian hallooing, and I calling to John, might bring them upon 
us, we took our course towards the river, and, on going about three- 
fourths of a mile, came to a path which led to Carpenter's Fort. My 
brother here hung up his hat, that he might know where to take off to 
find the camp. We got to the fort a little before daybreak. We re- 
lated our adventure and, the next day, a small party went out with my 
brother, and found the Indian that was tomahawked on the ground j the 
other had crawled off, and was not found till some time after. He was 
shot through, close by the ear." 



A LAD KILLS A RED-CRESTED GOBBLER. 

In Wood county, W. V., a man had a son, twelve years of age, who 
had been used to firing his father's gun, as most boys did in those days. 
He heard, he supposed, turkeys on or near the bank of the Ohio, and 
asked his father to let him take the gun and kill one. His father, know- 
ing that the Indians frequently decoyed people by such noises, refused, 



Capture of Two Boys and the Price Paid. 723 

saying it was probably an Indian. When he had gone to work, the boy 
took the gun and paddled his canoe over the river, but had the precau- 
tion to land some distance from where he had heard the turkey all the 
morning, probably for fear of scaring the game, and perhaps a little afraid 
of Indians. The banks were steep, and the boy cautiously advanced to 
where he could see without being seen. 

Watching a while for his game, he happened to see an Indian cautious- 
ly looking over a log, to notice where the boy had landed, The lad 
fixed his gun at a rest, watching the place where he had seen the In- 
dian's head, and when it appeared again, fired and the Indian disap- 
peared. The boy dropped the gun and ran for his canoe, which he 
paddled over the river as soon as possible. When he reached home, he 
said, "Mother, I have killed an Indian !" and the mother replied, "No, 
you have not." " Yes, I have," said the boy. The father coming in, he 
made the same report to him, and received the same reply ; but he 
constantly affirmed it was even so ; and, as the gun was left, a party 
took the boy over the river to find it and show the place where he shot 
the Indian, and, behold, his words were found verified. The ball had 
entered the head, where the boy affirmed he shot, between the eye and 
ear. 



CAPTURE OF TWO BOYS AND THE PRICE PAID, 

In the Spring of 1785 the Indians early reappeared in the neighbor- 
hood of Wheeling. One of their first acts, on Wheeling Creek, was 
the captivity of two boys, John Wetzel, Jr., and Frederick Erlewyne, 
the former about sixteen years of age and the latter a year or two 
younger. The boys had gone from the fort at Shepherd's for the pur- 
pose of catching horses. One of the stray animals was a mare with a 
young colt, belonging to Wetzel's sister, and she had offered the foal to 
John as a reward for finding the mare. While on this service they were 
captured by a party of four Indians, who, having come across the horses, 
had seized and secured them in a thicket, expecting the bells would at- 
tract the notice of their owners, so they could kill them. 

The horse was ever a favorite object of plunder with the savages ; as 
not only facilitating his own escape from pursuit, but also assisting him 
in carrying off the spoil. The boys, hearing the well-known tinkle of 
the bells, approached the spot where the Indians lay concealed, congrat- 
ulating themselves on their good luck in so readily finding the strays, 
when they were immediately seized by the savages. John, in attempt- 
ing to escape, was shot through the wrist. His companion hesitating to 



724 Our Western Border. 

go with the Indians, and beginning to cry, they dispatched him with 
the tomahawk. John, who had once before been taken prisoner and 
escaped, made light of it, and went along cheerfully with his wounded 
arm. 

The party struck the Ohio river early the following morning at a 
point near the mouth of Grave Creek, and just below the clearing of 
Mr. Tomlinson, who, with his family, was at that time in the fort at 
Wheeling. Here they found some hogs, and killing one of them, put 
it into a canoe they had stolen. Three of the Indians took possession 
of the canoe with their prisoner, while the other was busied in swim- 
ming the horses across the river. It so happened that Isaac Williams, 
Hambleton Kerr and Jacob, a Dutchman, had come down that morn- 
ing from Wheeling to look after the cattle, &c, left at the deserted set- 
tlement. When near the mouth of Little Grave Creek, a mile above, 
they heard the report of a rifle. " Dod rot 'em," exclaimed Mr. Wil- 
liams, " a Kantuck boat has landed at the creek, and they are shooting 
my hogs." 

Quickening their pace, in a few minutes they were within a short dis- 
tance of the creek, when they heard the loud snort of a horse. Kerr, 
being in the prime of life and younger than Mr. Williams, was several 
rods ahead and reached the bank first. As he looked into the creek, he 
saw three Indians standing in a canoe ; one was in the stern, one in the 
bow and the other in the middle. At the feet of the latter lay four 
rifles and a dead hog ; while a fourth Indian was swimming a horse, a 
few rods from shore. The one in the stern had his paddle in the edge 
of the water, in the act of turning and shoving the canoe from the 
mouth of the creek into the river. Before they were aware of his pres- 
ence, Kerr drew up and shot the Indian in the stern, who instantly fell 
into the water. The crack of his rifle had scarcely ceased, when Mr. 
Williams came up and shot the one in the bow, who also fell overboard. 
Kerr dropped his rifle, and seizing that of the Dutchman, shot the re- 
maining Indian. He fell over into the water, but still held on to the 
side of the canoe with one hand. So amazed was the last Indian at the 
fall of his companions, that he never offered to lift one of the rifles, 
which lay at his feet, in self-defence, but acted like one bereft of his 
senses. 

By this time the canoe, impelled by the impetus given to it by the 
first Indian, had reached the current of the river, and was some rods 
below the mouth of the creek. Kerr instantly reloaded his gun, and 
seeing John Wetzel lying in the bottom of the canoe, raised it to his 
face as in the act of firing, when he cried out, " Don't shoot, I am a 
white man ! " Kerr told him to knock loose the Indian's hand from 






Adventures of Five Kentucky Boys. 725 

the side of the canoe, and paddle to the shore. In reply he said his 
arm was broken, and he could not. The current, however, set it near 
some rocks not far from land, on which he jumped and waded out. 
Kerr now aimed his rifle at the Indian on horseback, who, by this time, 
had reached the middle of the river. The shot struck near him, splash- 
ing the water on his naked skin. 

The Indian, seeing the fate of his companions, with the utmost 
bravery, slipped from the horse and swam for the canoe in which were 
the rifles of the four warriors. This was an act of necessity as well as 
of daring, for he well knew that he could not reach home without the 
means of killing game. He soon gained possession of the canoe un- 
molested, crossed with the arms to his own side of the Ohio, mounted 
the captive horse, which had swam to the Indian shore, and, with a yell 
of defiance, escaped into the woods. The canoe was turned adrift to 
spite his enemies, and was taken up near Maysville, Ky., with the dead 
hog still in it — the cause of all their misfortunes. 



ADVENTURES OF FIVE KENTUCKY BOYS. 

About four years after the untimely murder by Indians of the famous 
hunter and pioneer, Colonel William Linn, Colonel Pope, who lived 
near Louisville, had a tutor employed for his own sons, and was in- 
duced to receive also the sons of his neighbors. Among these were 
Colonel Linn's two boys, to whom Colonel Pope acted as guardian. 

In February, 1785, five of these boys, the two Linns, Brashear, 
Wells and another, whose name is not recollected, went out one Satur- 
day to hunt. The ages of these boys are not now known; they were 
little fellows, however, probably between the ages of nine and thirteen. 
They encamped for the night near the bank of the Ohio, at a place 
where a wide scope of bottom land was covered with heavy forest trees, 
and with ponds which were frequented by great numbers of swans, 
geese and ducks. A snow fell during the night, and in the morning 
they found themselves surrounded by a party of Indians, who had laid 
near them in ambush, and who captured them. Brashear, being a very 
fleet runner, attempted to escape, but was overtaken and secured with 
the rest. The elder Linn also attempted to run, but being stout and 
clumsy, and encumbered with some game which he had thrown over his 
shoulder, stumbled and fell, and was seized by a tawny warrior, who 
patted him on the back and called him, in the Indian tongue, "the 



726 Our Western Border. 

little fat bear;" while Brashear, on account of his agility, received the 
name of the "buck elk." 

The Indians, desiring to ascertain whether there was any unprotected 
house or settlement near that might be pillaged, asked the boys where 
they came from? The guarded reply was, "from Louisville." " You 
lie ! " responded the savage ; but the boys, mindful of their friends, even 
at a moment so distressing to themselves, kept their own counsel, and 
neither by word nor sign gave any indication that their assertion was 
not true. Their sagacity and firmness saved the family of Colonel Pope 
from destruction. The Indians retired with their young captives, who 
marched off with apparent indifference. Crossing the Ohio, they were 
taken to an Indian town in Northern Indiana, distant many days' jour- 
ney; and on the way won the favor of their new masters by the patience 
with which they suffered captivity and fatigue, and the cheerful interest 
they appeared to take in the occurrences of the march. 

At the Indian village the reception usually extended to prisoners 
awaited them. The women and children crowded around them with 
shouts of exultation, loaded them with reproaches, pelted them with 
dirt and stones, struck, pinched and heaped indignities upon them. 
But the gallant little fellows were probably prepared for these and 
greater cruelties, and found them no worse than they expected. For 
a while they submitted bravely; but at length the Linn blood became 
heated and the younger of the brothers, whose temper was quick, and 
who had frequently been cautioned by his companions to restrain his 
passions, losing all patience, singled out a tawny boy bigger than him- 
self, who had struck him, and being left-handed, returned the blow in 
a way so unexpected that his foe, unable to parry it, was knocked 
down. 

The warriors were delighted with an exploit so much to their taste, 
and applauded it with loud shouts and laughter. Another champion 
assailed the little hero, who, springing upon the juvenile savage with 
the ferocity of the panther, dealt him blows, kicks and scratches, with 
a vigor which surprised and delighted the spectators. The whole mass 
of boyhood became pugnacious ; his companions joined with alacrity 
in the fight — Kentucky against the field. The heroic lads fought against 
odds, but displayed such prowess that they soon cleared the ring, and 
were rescued from further annoyance by their captors, who were par- 
ticularly amused by the efficiency and odd effect of the left-handed 
blows of the younger Linn. 

Such fine boys soon became favorites. Bold and bright-eyed, muscu- 
lar and healthy, equal to the Indian boys in all athletic sports and 
superior to them in intelligence, they were readily adopted into the 



Adventures of Five Kentucky Boys. 727 

tribe and domesticated in families. Wells, however, fell to the lot of 
an Indian belonging to some distant town, whither he was taken, and 
thus separated from his comrades, saw them no more. He remained 
with the Indians all his life; married a sister of the celebrated chief 
Little Turtle, and became the father of a family. We have already 
sketched him at length. The other four adapted themselves so com- 
pletely to their new mode of life, and seemed so well satisfied with the 
employments and sports of the savage youth ; with fishing and hunting, 
wrestling, racing and riding Indian ponies, that all suspicion in regard 
to them was quieted, and they were allowed to roam about unregarded. 
They were "biding their time;" with a watchfulness that never slept 
they sought an opportunity to make their escape. 

The hour of deliverance came at last. In the Autumn of their cap- 
ture the warriors set out upon their annual hunt, roaming far pff from 
home, in parties, and leaving their village in the care of the old men, 
the women and the children. The four boys found themselves one day 
at a camp, at some distance from the village, engaged in fishing, with 
no other companions but an old Indian and a squaw. A severe con- 
flict of mind took place. The long-sought opportunity for escape was 
at hand; but they could regain their liberty only by the death of a 
woman and an old man, with whom they were associating as com- 
panions. To be the captives of a race in hostility with their country- 
men, of a people they had been taught from infancy to fear and hate, 
and who had been the murderers of the father of two of them, was 
not to be tolerated. To leave their companions alive was to insure an 
early discovery of their flight, and a pursuit which must probably result 
in their capture and death. All their scruples yielded to a stern neces- 
sity; the bold resolve was taken; they killed the man and woman, and 
directed their steps homeward. 

Pursuing the nearest course, with the unerring sagacity of Indians 
themselves, they struck for home through the wilderness. Traveling by 
night, and lying concealed during the day in coverts and hiding places, 
living upon wild fruits and nuts, and upon such small game as could be 
taken with the least noise and the least delay, and practicing all the 
cunning, the patience and the self-denial of the savage warrior, they 
reached the bank of the Ohio river, directly opposite to Louisville, 
after a journey of three weeks. Having no means of crossing the 
river, which here, at the head of the falls, is wide and rapid, they en- 
deavored to attract the attention of the people at Louisville by firing 
their guns; but the Indians having lately been very troublesome, those 
who heard these signals, not understanding them, were unwilling to 
cross the river to ascertain their meaning, 



728 Our Western Border. 

The persevering boys then marched up the shore of the river nearly 
six miles, and at a place near the Six Mile island constructed a raft, 
with no tool to facilitate their labors but a knife. Even this frail and 
rough contrivance was not large enough to carry them all, and the elder 
Linn, who was an expert swimmer, plunged into the water and pushed 
the clumsy craft before him, while his companions paddled with all 
their might with poles. Thus they were wafted slowly and laboriously 
down and across the stream, until they were discovered from the town, 
and parties sent to their relief. About the same time the Indians who 
had been pursuing them reached the shore they had left, fired at them, 
and expressed their rage and disappointment by loud yells. Young 
Linn was nearly frozen by his immersion in the water, which, at that 
season, in the month of November, was very cold; but by the prompt 
and skilliul remedies applied under the direction of his kind guardian, 
Colonel Pope, who had been driven by the Indians from his residence 
in the woods, and was now living in Louisville, he was recovered. 



JONATHAN ALDER CAPTURED—HIS STRANGE RETURN, 

In March, 1782, Jonathan Alder, a lad of nine years, while out near 
his father's home in West Virginia, with his brother David, hunting for 
a mare and her colt, was taken prisoner by a small party of Indians. 
His brother ran, but was pursued, and a spear pierced through his 
body. When finally taken, one caught him about the body while 
another pulled out the spear. Jonathan moved to him and asked him 
if he was much hurt, when the little fellow said he was, which were his 
last words. At that moment he turned pale and began to sink, and 
Jonathan was hurried on, but saw, soon after, one of the wretches coming 
up with his little brother's scalp in his bloody hand. 

A Mrs. Martin, with a young child aged five, neighbors of the Alders, 
were taken at the same time, but finding the child burdensome, the sav- 
ages soon killed and scalped it also. The last member of her family was 
thus destroyed, and the poor mother screamed out in an agony of grief, 
Upon this, one of the cruel savages caught her by the hair and, drawing 
the edge of his knife across her forehead, cried "scalp ! scalp !" with 
the hope of stilling her cries. But, indifferent to life, she continued 
her screams, and then they procured some switches and whipped her 
until she was silent, 

The next morning Jonathan, not having risen, through over-fatigue, 



Jonathan Alder Captured. 729 

saw, as his face was to the north, the shadow of a man's arm with an 
uplifted tomahawk. He turned about, and there stood an Indian ready 
for the fatal blow. Upon this the savage let down his arm and com- 
menced feeling the boy's head. He afterwards told Alder it had been his 
intention to have killed him; but, as he turned, he looked so smiling that 
he could not strike, and on feeling his head and noticing that his hair 
was very black, the thought struck him that if he could only get him 
to his tribe, he would make of him a good Indian. 

After crossing the Ohio they killed a bear, and remained four days to 
dry the meat for packing. He was now taken to a Shawnee village on 
Mad river, and forced to run the gauntlet formed by young children 
armed with switches. He was not hurt, and soon after was adopted 
into an Indian family. 

His Indian mother washed him thoroughly with soap and water 
having herbs in it, and dressed him in leggins, moccasins and breech- 
clout. Jonathan was at first very homesick. Everything was strange. 
He could not speak a word of Indian ; their food disagreed with him, 
and for more than a month he used to go and sit under a big walnut 
and cry for hours. His father was a chief, Succohanos, his mother's 
name was Whinecheoh, and the daughters were called by the English 
names of Mary, Hannah and Sally. The parents were old people who 
had lost a son, and Alder was to take his place. They took pity on 
him, and did all possible to comfort him. His Indian sister, Sally, 
however, treated him like a slave, and when out of humor called him 
bad names. 

Jonathan lived for a while with Mary, the wife of Colonel Lewis, a 
noted Shawnee chief. "In the Fall of the year," says he, "the Indians 
would generally collect at our camp, evenings, to talk over their hunt- 
ing expeditions. I would sit up to listen, and frequently fall asleep. 
After the Indians left, Mary would fix my bed, and, with Colonel 
Lewis, would carefully take me up and carry me to it. On these occa- 
sions they would often say, supposing me to be asleep, ' poor little fel- 
low, we have sat up too long for him and he has fallen asleep on the 
cold ground;' and then how softly they would lay me down and cover 
me up ! Oh, never can I express the affection I had for these two 
persons." 

Jonathan, with other lads, went into Mad river to bathe, and once 
came near drowning. He was taken out senseless and was some time in 
recovering. The boys, after bringing him to, gave him a silver buckle 
not to tell on them, and he did not. When Alder had learned the 
language he became more content, and said he would have lived very 
happily had it not been for several years of fever and ague. The chief 



730 Our Western Border. 

food was game and hominy, with honey and sugar. When he was old 
enough, a musket was given him to learn to hunt. He used, at first, to 
follow the water courses and shoot mud turtles. Occasionally he killed 
a raccoon or a wild turkey, and received great praise from the Indians, 
who told him he would make a great hunter. 

In the June after he was taken, occurred Crawford's defeat. He de- 
scribes the anxiety of the squaws when the men had gone to battle, and 
their joy on the return of the spoil-laden victors. He defends Simon 
Girty from the charge of being the instigator of Crawford's tortures, 
and asserts that he could not possibly have saved Crawford's life, be- 
cause he, Girty, had no influence among the Delawares. He was at 
the Mack-a-chack towns when they were destroyed by Logan in 1 786 ; 
went to Kentucky on a horse -stealing expedition, and remained with 
the Indians until after Wayne's victory. He now lived on Big Darby, 
and, when white settlers first came there, he could scarcely speak one 
word of English. He was then about twenty-four years of age, fifteen 
of which had been passed with the Indians. 

Alder married a squaw and began to farm like the whites. He kept 
horses, cows, hogs, &c. ; sold milk and butter to the Indians, horses 
and pork to the whites, and soon began to accumulate property. He 
was shortly able to hire white laborers, but becoming dissatisfied with his 
squaw — a cross, peevish woman — he wished to wife among the whites 
and farm like them. He now made inquiries for his white relations, 
but was at a loss to know even what State he came from. While talk- 
ing with a John Moore once, he told him he was captured somewhere 
near a place called Green Briar. Moore then asked him if he could re- 
call the names of any of his old neighbors. After a little reflection, 
Alder said, "Yes, a family of Gulions lived close by us." Upon this 
Moore dropped his head, muttering to himself, " Gulion, Gulion," and 
then said, ' ' Oh, yes ; my father and I were out in that country and we 
stopped at their house one night ; if your people are living"* I can find 
them." 

Moore went to Wythe county, Va., and inquired for the Alder fam- 
ily, but they had moved. He advertised for them, stating where Jona- 
than was to be found and then returned. Alder now gave up all hope, 
but some time after he was at Franklinton, O. , and was informed there was 
a letter at the post office for him. It was from his brother Paul, stating 
he had read the advertisement and that his mother and brothers were 
still alive. Alder now prepared to go back to Virginia, but first sepa- 
rated from his Indian wife, dividing the property equally ; but she 
was very hard at a bargain, and he ended by giving her nearly all. 
She then claimed $200 more in silver, that he had saved. Alder says, 



The Captivity of Two Little Brothers. 731 

1 ' I saw I could not get along without a fuss, and told her that if she 
would promise never to trouble me again she might have it." 

Moore accompanied him to his brother's house. They arrived on 
horseback, pretending they were entire strangers, and inquired who lived 
there. ''I had concluded," says Alder, "not to make myself known 
for some time, and eyed my brother very close but did not recollect his 
features. I had always thought I should have recognized my mother by 
a mole on her face. In the corner sat an old lady who I supposed was 
her, although I could not tell, for when I was taken her head was as 
black as a crow, and now it was almost perfectly white. Two young 
women were present, who eyed me very close, and I heard one of them 
whisper to the other, 'He looks very much like Mark/ (my brother.) 
I saw they were about to discover me, and accordingly turned my chair 
around to my brother and said, 'You say your name is Alder.' 
'Yes,' he replied, 'my name is Paul Alder.' 'Well,' I rejoined, 
'my name is Alder, too.' Now it is hardly necessary to describe my 
feelings at that time, but when I thus disclosed my name, he rose to 
shake hands with me, so overjoyed that he could scarcely utter a word, 
and my old mother ran, threw her arms around me, while tears rolled 
down her aged cheeks. The first words she spoke, after she grasped me 
in her arms, were, 'How you have grown ! I am proud to own you 
for my son ! ' We passed the day in conversation. My brothers, Mark 
and John, were sent for, and we all had a happy time." 



THE CAPTIVITY OF TWO LITTLE BROTHERS. 

Dr. Denny, of Pittsburgh, persuaded the venerable James Lyon, of 
Beaver, Pa., then in his 71st year, to give a narrative of his boyish cap- 
tivity among Indians, from which we condense, as follows : In 1782 his 
sister Mary lived on Turtle Creek, Pa., with his father, (the mother be- 
ing dead,) and made for him and his brother Eli pin-hooks, with which 
they were busy fishing in the creek for minnows, when they heard a 
noise like the tramping of horses. Eli told James to go up the bank to 
see what it was. He ran up and, looking towards the house saw Indians 
jumping the fence and coming towards them, and had scarce time to halloo 
to Eli before the savages were upon them. 

A large Indian, who had their father's bloody shirt and hunting frock 
on, and two scalps hanging to his girdle, caught James, while Eli ran up 
the opposite bank, striking the foremost Indian with his fishing rod. The 



732 Our Western Border. 

enraged savage now pulled out his tomahawk when Eli grew quiet. 
James, too, had made a terrible hullabaloo when first seized by the Indian, 
but the sight of the brandished tomahawk quieted him also. The redskins 
seized the two boys and, lifting them almost off the ground, carried them 
to the hills above Dirty Camp, where they were joined by another party of 
Indians, with three stolen horses of Mr. Lyon. On the small black mare 
was a feather bed, on which Eli was seated in front and James behind him. 

That evening they stole from a waste field they were passing a roan 
mare, and after a while one of the Indians climbed up a tree which was 
leaning against another, looked around and then motioned the lads to get 
off at once. They all then squatted for some time, till the danger, what- 
ever it was, was past, and the direction was changed ; the children being 
too young to tell what course they were traveling. They soon, however, 
struck a river, supposed to be the Allegheny, where all the horses were 
driven in to swim across; but the roan mare, proving refractory, was 
cruelly tomahawked, and the best of her cut into steaks and broiled. 
Some of it was handed to us; it was tough eating, but we were very 
hungry and glad to get it. They now examined the murdered Mr. 
Lyon's pocket book, and seemed specially pleased at the jingle of some 
gold guineas therein contained. The next day the river was crossed on 
a raft, the horses (all but Long's, which ran off and safely reached its 
old quarters,) having first been hunted up. 

On that night, as well as the whole day after, a severe storm of rain 
and wind prevailed. A shelter was allowed James, but Eli was com- 
pelled to weather it outside. Both boys spent much of that night in 
tears over their forlorn situation. The next day their hair was all cut 
off, both lads resisting strenuously, which seemed mightily to please 
their captors. James' hair was unusually long and white, which pro- 
cured him the name of O-pon-to-pos, or White-head. The first town 
they came to they were treated, before entering, with the horrid spec- 
tacle of their father's and sister's scalps stretched on small hoops and then 
suspended to long poles. The villagers came out to meet them, and 
escorted their party and the gory trophies in. 

Among those who visited them was a white man, who took little 
James on his knee, caressed him and treated him so kindly that when 
he came to go the boy wanted to go with him, and could only be 
pacified by the promise that he would come and see him again, but that 
was the last he ever saw of him ; he was told by his brother that the 
white man was Simon Girty. They soon reached a larger town, were 
put on two horses, and compelled again to run the gauntlet, an Indian 
pointing out to them the council house. Eli whipped his horse with a 
ramrod, and reached the house without a touch, but not so with 



The Captivity of Two Little Brothers. 733 

James, who was dragged off his horse by boys of about his own size, 
and severely kicked, cuffed and beaten, but finally succeeded in reach- 
ing his brother. There they remained several days, and then moved to 
White Woman's Creek, O., where James was adopted into a respectable 
Indian family. 

We may mention two or three interesting incidents of this boy's cap- 
tivity. He had a little Indian brother of about his own age and size, 
and a brother of his Indian father, badly crippled by a bear, used to 
set the two little ones to wrestle, which sometimes ended in a fight, 
when they would be parted. One time they both had knives, while 
husking corn, and when James had laid his knife down, his Indian 
brother slipped it away and put his own in its place. On making a 
dash for his own knife again he was severely cut, (the scar of which 
lasted during life,) for which his brother received a severe drubbing from 
the mother. 

At another time their father brought in a deer, and after cutting off a 
steak, left his hunting knife on the ground. His little Indian brother 
had been amusing himself by getting splinters from the fire and burning 
James' naked hips. The white boy told him he would whip him if he 
did not desist, and on his continuing, James made at him, clinched and 
threw him, but, unfortunately, on the point of the knife, which entered 
above the little lad's hips, near the backbone, inflicting a severe wound. 
Seeing his Indian father reaching for his tomahawk, James ran down to 
the creek and hid under some rocks. It was in Winter, with much snow 
on the ground, and there the little fellow lay until night, when, feeling 
very cold, he crept out and saw his mother going for water. She made 
signs for him to come to her, and insisted on his going back to the 
camp, which he did, very much frightened, expecting he would be 
killed, or, at least, severely chastised. When he went in, however, no 
one had an angry word to say to him. He went up to where his little 
brother was lying in great pain, and being sincerely sorry for the acci- 
dent, he was pardoned. 

At another time he went to live with a sister who had married, who 
used him cruelly, striking him on the head with the back of a scalping 
knife so violently as to make it bleed profusely. Once, when she went 
to the creek to wash, she took hold of him and threw him into the 
creek, holding him under water until he would have been drowned, had 
not her husband just then returned from a hunt and witnessed the whole 
proceeding. His mother, coming that day to pay him a visit, noticed 
blood on his hair, and asked what did it. On being told she was ex- 
ceedingly angry, and gave her daughter a terrible scolding, and took 
him home with her. 



734 Our Western Border. 

When told that, by treaty just made, he was to be sent back to his 
white relatives, James had to be coaxed to go, but on being informed 
he would again see his brother, consented, and was delivered up at Fort 
Mcintosh, whence he reached his own old home safely. His sister 
Mary, who had not been killed, as the brothers supposed, told him of 
the agonies she endured when she missed them and saw moccasin prints 
in the mud. She ran at once and gave the alarm at Rayburn's garri- 
son, and thus escaped herself. Lyon, in his narrative, neglects to state 
what became of his brother Eli, but it is presumed that he also was re- 
turned in safety to his friends. 



FRANCIS DOWNING SAVED BY A BEAR. 

In August, 1786, young Francis Downing was living in a fort, where, 
subsequently, some iron works were erected by Mr. Jacob Myers, which 
are now known by the name of Slate Creek works. About the 16th, a 
young man belonging to the fort called upon Downing, and requested 
his assistance in hunting for a horse which had strayed away on the pre- 
ceding evening. Downing readily complied, and the two friends 
traversed the woods in every direction, until at length, towards evening, 
they found themselves in a wild valley, at a distance of six or seven 
miles from the fort. Here Downing became alarmed, and repeatedly 
assured his elder companion, (whose name was Yates,) that he heard 
sticks cracking behind them, and was confident that Indians were 
dogging them. Yates, being an experienced hunter, and from habit 
grown indifferent to the dangers of the woods, diverted himself freely 
at the expense of the lad, often inquiring at what price he rated his 
scalp, and offering to insure it for sixpence. 

Downing, however, was not so easily satisfied. He observed that, in 
whatever direction they turned, the same ominous sound continued to 
haunt them, and as Yates still treated his fears with the most perfect in- 
difference, he determined to take his measures upon his own responsi- 
bility. Gradually slackening his pace, he permitted Yates to advance 
twenty or thirty steps in front of him, and immediately after descend- 
ing a gentle hill, he suddenly sprang aside and hid himself in a thick 
cluster of whortleberry bushes. Yates, who at that time was perform- 
ing some woodland ditty to the full extent of his lungs, was too much 
pleased with his own voice to attend either to Downing or the Indians, 
and was quickly out of sight. Scarcely had he disappeared, when 



Francis Downing Saved by a Bear. 735 

Downing, to his unspeakable terror, beheld two savages put aside the 
stalks of a canebrake and look out cautiously in the direction which 
Yates had taken. Fearful that they had seen him step aside, he deter- 
mined to fire upon them and trust to his heels for safety, but so un- 
steady was his hand, that in raising his gun to his shoulder it went off 
before he had taken aim. He lost no time in following its example, 
and after having run fifty yards, he met Yates, who, alarmed at the re- 
port, was hastily retracing his steps. 

It was not necessary to inquire what was the matter. The enemy 
were in full view, pressing forward with great rapidity, and "devil 
take the hindmost " was the order of the day. Yates would not out- 
strip Downing, but ran by his side, although in so doing he risked both of 
their lives. The Indians were well acquainted with the country, and 
soon took a path that diverged from the one which the whites followed 
at one point and rejoined it at another, bearing the same relation to it 
that the string does to the bow. The two paths were at no point dis- 
tant from each other more than one hundred yards, so that Yates and 
Downing could easily see the enemy gaining rapidly upon them. They 
reached the point of reunion first, however, and quickly came to a 
deep gully, which it was necessary to cross or retrace their steps. 
Yates cleared it without difficulty, but Downing, being much ex- 
hausted, fell short, falling with his breast against the opposite brink, 
rebounded with violence, and fell at full length on the bottom. 

The Indians crossed the ditch a few yards below him, and, eager for 
the capture of Yates, continued the pursuit, without appearing to notice 
Downing. The latter, who at first had given himself up for lost, 
quickly recovered his strength, and began to walk slowly along the 
ditch, fearing to leave it lest the enemy should see him. As he ad- 
vanced, however, the ditch became more shallow, until at length it 
ceased to protect him at all. Looking around cautiously, he saw one 
of the Indians returning, apparently in quest of him. Unfortunately, 
he had neglected to reload his gun while in the ditch, and, as the Indian 
instantly advanced upon him, he had no resource but flight. Throw- 
ing away his gun, which was now useless, he plied his legs manfully in 
ascending a long ridge which stretched before him, but the Indian 
gained upon him so rapidly that he lost all hope of escape. Coming, at 
length, to a large poplar which had been blown up by the roots, he ran 
along the body of the tree upon one side, while the Indian followed it 
upon the other, doubtless expecting to intercept him at the root. 

But here the supreme dominion of fortune was manifested. It hap- 
pened that a large she bear was suckling her cubs in a bed she had made 
at the root of the tree, and as the Indian reached that point first, she 



736 Our Western Border, 

instantly sprang upon him and a prodigious uproar took place. The 
Indian yelled and stabbed with his knife, the bear growled and saluted 
him with one of her most endearing "hugs;" whiie Downing, fer- 
vently wishing her success, ran off through the woods, without waiting 
to see the end of the struggle. Downing reached the fort in safety, 
and found Yates reposing after a hot chase, having eluded his pursuers 
and gained the fort two hours before him. On the next morning they 
collected a party and returned to the poplar tree, but no traces either 
of the Indian or bear were to be found. They both probably escaped 
with their lives, although not without injury. 



NARRATIVE OF JOHN BRICKELL'S CAPTIVITY. 

We condense from the American Pioneer, long out of print, John 
Brickell's interesting narrative of his four and a half years' captivity 
among the Delawares. He was born in 1781, near Uniontown, Pa., and 
in 1 79 1, when but ten years old, and while clearing out a fence row, 
was taken prisoner by an Indian, who took his axe. He had always 
been intimate with the Indians, who had constantly frequented the 
neighborhood, and did not feel afraid. So he was not alarmed, but 
went with the redman willingly. When he c-ame, however, to a couple 
of logs, between which his companion had lain all night, he became 
suspicious and attempted to run, but was thrown down on his face and 
tied. 

After going a little distance they fell in with a son of George Girty — 
a brother of the notorious Simon Girty — who told him that white peo- 
ple had killed Indians and now they were retaliating, and that if he 
would go peaceably, they would make an Indian of him ; but if not, 
they would kill and scalp him. They then went to the Big Beaver ; 
crossed on a raft, and Girty and he took a new direction. Young 
Brickell felt very bitter against Girty, and thought, if a good chance of- 
fered, he would kill him. They soon made a fire, Girty tying the lad to 
a sapling ; but Brickell untied himself and laid down by the fire, and 
Girty, coming back, asked him what he had untied himself for. He 
answered he was cold. " Then you no run away?" " No," Brickell 
replied, upon Avhich his companion said there were Indians close by, and 
he was afraid they would find the boy. 

At the camp he saw many Indians who had been often at his father's. 
They treated him very kindly and gave him food. His captor now 



Narrative of John Brickell's Captivity. 737 

took him towards Sandusky ; met two warriors on the way and got drunk 
with them, when one of the savages fell upon the boy and beat him so 
unmercifully that he ran into the woods and hid behind a log. They 
soon missed him and searched for him with torches, calling out, "White 
man ! white man ! " but Brickell lay still, and when the warriors left 
he went into camp again. At the Seneca town he had to run the 
gauntlet, and was bruised from head to foot, but a chief came up, threw 
the rest off of him, and led him through the lines with such rapidity 
that his feet scarce touched ground. Those who were the worst at the 
beating were now the kindest, and did all they could to cure him up, 
but he was over two months getting well. His impression was that the 
Indian who rescued him was Captain Pipe himself. 

His owner took himself a wife at the Seneca towns, and all then 
traveled on to the Maumee towns and the Auglaize, where he was adopted 
into the family of Whingroy Pooshies, or Big Cat, one of the best of the 
Delaware chiefs. He was treated exactly as one of the family, his em- 
ployment being mostly hunting. They had a comfortable log cabin 
and seven acres of corn to cultivate. They slept on skins stretched on 
raised platforms, the men pulling off all but their breech-clouts and 
using the clothes for pillows. Brickell became a thorough Indian boy, 
adopting their clothes, customs, &c. He says the Delawares were ex- 
cellent at raising children, never whipping and scarcely ever scolding 
them, but exacting order and obedience. A dozen might be in one 
cabin, of all ages, and scarcely any noise at all. They spent much time 
training their children in their ideas of right and virtue. Honesty, 
bravery and hospitality were their cardinal virtues, and the young were 
taught to honor and revere the aged, especially their parents. 

When St. Clair's army was reported to be advancing, all the squaws 
and children were moved down the Maumee to await the result of the 
battle. After the Indian victory, the Indians came home laden down 
with spoils ; Big Cat's share of the booty being two fine horses, four 
elegant tents, clothing in abundance, axes, guns, &c. There was much 
joy among them. Soon after he and another lad went hunting and 
came across a skeleton stripped of flesh, which his companion said had 
been eaten by the Chippewa Indians who were at the battle, and he 
called them brutes to so use their prisoners. 

Two Touching Incidents of Indian Generosity. 

Brickell soon came across some whites captured at St. Clair's defeat, 
when one of them, Isaac Patton, told him that as a certain Isaac Choat 
was sitting, after his capture, in a very melancholy mood, his owner 
47 



738 Our Western Border. 

asked him what made him look so sorry. Choat answered, because he 
could not help it, as he kept thinking of his wife and children and how 
they would get along without him. The Indian looked around and 
said, " I have a squaw and two children, and I would be sorry, too, if 
I were taken prisoner and carried away from them." He then arose, 
and, putting his hand on Choat's head, said, "Choat, you shall not 
stay away from them. I will let you go ; but I will not turn you out 
alone for fear other Indians may catch you; I will go with you." This 
he actually did, accompanying him as far as the Muskingum, and there 
left him, telling him to go home to his family. 

On one of BrickelPs annual visits to the Rapids he saw Jane Dick, 
one of his own neighbors. She suddenly became missing, and great but 
unavailing search was made for her. He learned afterwards, that her 
husband had hired Alexander McKee's black cook to steal her away, 
which he did by taking her aboard a small vessel in a canoe and headed 
her up in an empty hogshead, where she remained until a day after the 
vessel sailed. The cook told Brickell it was part of the plan to steal 
him away also, but that he was watched so close they dare not venture it. 
At this time, indeed, the lad, who appears to have been a great favorite, 
was watched very closely. They would not let him sleep alone, or even 
go to draw water. 

In June, 1794, two Indians and a boy, besides himself, started out on 
a hunt. They had been out about two months, and, on returning, found 
all the towns evacuated. Next morning an Indian runner came down 
the river giving the alarm whoop, and they were told to run for their 
lives as the whites were coming. "We scattered," says Brickell, "like 
a flock of partridges, leaving our breakfast cooking on the fire. The 
Kentucky riflemen saw our smoke and just missed me as I passed them 
through the corn. They took the whole of our two months' work, jerk, 
skins and all." 

"Two or three days after we arrived at the Rapids, Wayne's spies 
came right into our camp boldly and fired on the Indians. Their names 
were Miller, McClellan, May, Wells, Mahaffy, and another whose 
name I forget. Miller was wounded ; May was chased to the smooth, 
rocky bed of the river, where his horse fell and he was made prisoner. 
They knew him, as he had formerly been a prisoner and ran away, and 
took him back to camp. They said, ' We know you — you speak Indian 
language — you not content to live with us ; to-morrow we take you to 
that burr-oak ; we will tie you up, make a mark on your breast, and 
will try what Indian can shoot nearest.' This they did, riddling his 
body with bullets. Thus ended poor May." 

Next day was Wayne's battle of Fallen Timbers. Brickell was out 



Touching Incidents of Indian Generosity. 739 

hunting and met some Indians on the retreat, who told him they had 
been badly whipped. Many of the Delawares were killed and wounded. 
Among the former was the Indian who captured May, and who was 
much missed, as he was the only gunsmith among the Indians. The In- 
dians now had a terrible time. The British did not half support them. 
All their dogs and cattle died, and they were nearly starved, and very 
bitter against the British, who had goaded them on to hostilities. They 
then went and made peace with the Americans, and had an exchange of 
prisoners, but as there was no Indian to give up for Brickell, he con- 
tinued, and in the Spring all went to Fort Defiance; and now fol- 
lows a scene very creditable to the Indian character. We quote : 

"On the same day Big Cat told me I must go over to the fort. The 
children hung around me crying, and asked me if I was going to leave 
them. I told them I did not know. When we got over, and were 
seated with the officers, Big Cat told me to stand up, which I did. He 
then rose and addressed me in about these words : ' My son, there are 
men the same color as yourself. There may be some of your kin there, 
or your kin may be a great way off from you. You have lived a long 
time with us. I call on you to say if I have not been a father to you.' 
I said, 'You have used me as well as a father could a son.' He said, ' I 
am glad you say so. You have lived long with me; you have hunted 
for me, but our treaty says you must be free. If you choose to go with 
the people of your own color, I have no right to say a word; but if you 
choose to stay with me, your people have no right to speak. Now re- 
flect on it and take your choice, and tell us as soon as you make up your 
mind.' 

< ' I was silent a few minutes, in which time it seemed as if I thought 
of almost everything. I thought of the children I had just left crying; 
I thought of the Indians I was attached to, and I thought of my own 
people, and this latter thought predominated, and I said, 'I will go with 
my kin.' The old man then said, 'I have raised you; I have taught 
you to hunt; you are a good hunter; you have been better to me than 
my own sons. I am now getting old and cannot hunt. I thought you 
would be a support to my age. I leaned on you as a staff; now it is 
broken. You are going to leave me and I have no right to say a word, 
but I am ruined.' He then sank back, in tears, to his seat. I heartily 
joined him in his tears ; parted with him, and have never seen nor heard 
of him since." 



740 Our Western Border. 



ADVENTURES OF YOUNG JAMES RAY. 

We have already quoted from James Ray, (afterwards General Ray,) 
how, when but a youth of seventeen, he first became acquainted with 
George Rogers Clark. From all accounts Ray must have been a very 
daring and spirited youth. We select the following incidents relating 
to him: 

In March, 1777, while he, his brother William, William Coomes and 
Thomas Shores were engaged in clearing some land about four miles 
from Harrodstown, Ky., they were attacked by a very large party of 
savages, under the command of the celebrated chief Blackfish. The 
Indians were attracted to the place by the sound of the axes, and rush- 
ing upon the choppers, killed William Ray and took Shores prisoner; 
Coomes hiding in the brush. James Ray being uninjured by the dis- 
charge of rifles, fled rapidly in the direction of the fort at Harrods- 
town. Several of the swiftest Indian runners pursued him, but such 
was the white lad's fleetness and activity, that he distanced them all and 
reached the fort in safety. His remarkable speed elicited the admira- 
tion of the Indians — most excellent judges of that power — and Black- 
fish himself remarked to Boone, when he was a captive, that some 
Kan-tuck boy at Harrodstown had outrun all his best warriors. 

This swiftness was a fortunate circumstance for the fort, as it enabled 
the garrison to prepare for an attack. The militia was organized, am- 
munition prepared, water and provisions procured, and all put in readi- 
ness for an attack. The hot-headed McGary openly charged Harrod 
with having been wanting in precaution, and were about to shoot at 
each other, when McGary 's wife rushed in and turned aside the rifle of 
her husband, when Harrod immediately withdrew his. McGary in- 
stantly insisted that a party of thirty should be immediately dispatched 
in search of Coomes, Shores and Ray. Harrod and Rogers Clark op- 
posed the measure as imprudent. 

At length, however, McGary's passion prevailed, and thirty mounted 
men were placed under him, and moved with great rapidity. Near an 
abandoned encampment they discovered the mangled remains of William 
Ray, who was McGary's son-in-law, at sight of which McGary turned pale 
and was near falling from his horse. When the body was first sighted, 
one of the men shouted out: "See there! They have killed poor 
Coomes !" Coomes, who had hitherto lurked in his hiding place, now 
sallied forth, exclaiming, " No, by gob, they haven't killed him, Coomes 



Adventures of Young James Ray. 741 

is safe yet !" The party having buried Ray and rescued Coomes, re- 
turned in sadness to the fort. 

A few days after the Indians approached the fort, first firing a cabin 
on the east side of the place. The garrison, supposing the fire to be the 
result of an accident, rushed out to quench the flames. The artful In- 
dians, having succeeded in their decoy, instantly attempted to intercept 
their return to the fort. The whites retreated, keeping up a random 
fire, until they reached a grove on the hill, where the Harrodsburg 
Court House was afterwards built. Each man now taking his tree, the 
Indians were compelled to retire, one white being killed and four Indians 
— one of whom afterwards died — being wounded. 

Some time after the Indians collected in great numbers about Har- 
rodstown, in order, it was thought, to prevent any corn from being 
raised. In this period of peril and distress, James Ray, at that time 
but seventeen, rendered himself an object of general favor by his cool- 
ness, enterprise and intrepidity. He often arose before day, and left the 
fort on an old horse — the only one left by the Indians, of forty brought 
to the country by Major McGary — in order to procure food for the gar- 
rison. Proceeding cautiously to Salt river, (generally riding in the 
water, or in the bed of some small stream, in order to conceal his route,) 
when sufficiently out of hearing, he would kill his load of game and 
bring it in to the suffering inhabitants after nightfall. Older and more 
experienced hunters, in similar hazardous enterprises, were killed by the 
Indians. 

During the same year, while Ray and a man named McConnell were 
shooting at a mark near the fort, the latter was suddenly shot down by 
the Indians. Ray instantly glanced his eye in the direction of the shot, 
and perceiving the enemy, raised his rifle to avenge the death of his 
friend, when he was suddenly attacked by a large body of Indians, who 
had crept near him. His powers as a runner were again called into 
requisition, and Ray bounded towards the fort, distant a hundred and 
fifty yards, with the speed of an antelope, amidst showers of bullets from 
the savages. But when he approached the gates of the fort he found 
them closed, and the garrison too much under the influence of their 
fears to open them for his admittance. 

Ray Four Hours Under Fire — Clark Compliments Ray. 

In this critical situation, pursued by the savages and refused shelter 
by his friends, Ray threw himself flat upon the ground, behind a stump 
just large enough to protect his body. Here, within seven steps of the 
fort wall, in sight of his mother, he lay for four hours, while the Indians 



742 Our Western Border. 

kept up an incessant fire, the balls often striking and tearing up the 
ground on either side of him. At last, becoming somewhat impatient, 
he called out to the garrison, " For God's sake, dig a hole under the 
cabin wall, and take me in." Strange as may have appeared the sug- 
gestion, it was immediately carried out, and the noble young hunter 
was speedily within the shelter of the fort and in the arms of his friends. 

During the Fall of this year, (1777,) in order to make up the deficiency 
arising from having raised no corn, the people of the fort determined to 
make a turnip patch about two hundred yards northwest of the station. 
While clearing the ground, an Indian was shot at by the guard and the 
men retired. The next day the cattle were perceived to be disturbed, 
and snuffing the air about a small field in the furthest corner, that had 
been allowed to grow up in very high weeds. The presence of con- 
cealed Indians was instantly suspected, so sure were the cattle to betray 
their vicinity, either from the sight of the Indians themselves or from 
the smell of paint upon their persons. The indication prompted Major 
George Rogers Clark to turn the ambuscade upon the enemy. For 
this purpose some men were still kept at work in the turnip patch near- 
est the fort, and, in order to prevent suspicion by the Indians of any 
movement from within, they occasionally hallooed to their companions 
to come out to their work, while Clark, with a party of the garrison, 
sallied out of the fort with great secrecy, and, making a circuit,. came 
up in the rear of the Indians as they lay concealed in the weeds. 

A volley was discharged at the concealed foe, and four of their num- 
ber killed — one by Clark and another by Ray. The Indians instantly 
retreated, and were pursued by the whites about four hundred yards 
down the creek, where they came upon the remains of a deserted In- 
dian encampment, of sufficient extent for the accommodation of five or 
six hundred warriors. From this camp the enemy had issued during 
the preceding Summer to assail the stations, which they had kept in a 
state of constant alarm, and had destroyed the greater portion of their 
horses and cattle. The Indians had now abandoned their position, and 
the party which had just been pursued was supposed to be the remnant 
of the Indian force which had occupied the encampment. Major Clark 
complimented James Ray with the gun of the Indian which he had shot, 
and which was the first he had ever killed. 



How Readily Captive Boys Become Indianized. 743 



HOW READILY CAPTIVE BOYS BECOME INDIANIZED. 

Frederick Lee, with a brother-in-law and a few families, settled on 
the Green Briar, a branch of the Kanawha. In time of peace a large 
party of savages encamped on Lee's place for several days, appearing 
to be on one continuous frolic. Mr. Lee, however, was anxious, and 
did all he could to propitiate them, killing a fine hog, supplying them 
with bread, &c. It all availed nothing. When the time came for the 
blow he was the first to fall. He had a large family, several daughters 
grown, and one married, with her first child at her breast. Several 
savages one day entered the cabin and tomahawked old Mr. Lee and 
his son-in-law, and made prisoners of the rest. The blood of the 
father fell on the head and face of his little son, who was then seated 
on his lap. The Indians, intending to spare the boy and fearful he 
might be hurt, carried him to the creek and washed him. While this 
tragedy was enacting, many neighboring families were sharing the same 
fate. 

All now started out for the Indian towns. There were several 
women along, all with babes at the breast. Mrs. Johnson, one of the 
daughters, who gives the narrative, says that her sister pressed her babe 
to her breast and bore her long march with fortitude, hoping the child 
would be saved. The day before the Indian town was reached, how- 
ever, all the babes were pitilessly murdered, and their bodies left in the 
woods to be devoured. After this Mrs. Johnson said her sister wished 
to die, and did all she could to provoke the Indians to kill her, and 
made several attempts on their lives. She lived, however, to marry 
afterwards. 

Soon after getting to the Indian towns the women were put to hard 
drudgery and the boys allowed to run wild with the Indian lads : to 
shoot with bow and arrow, dabble in the water, &c. They were kept 
prisoners some ten years, and after peace was declared, found their way 
home. The boys, and especially the younger ones, had become so 
completely Indian that they had to be forced away : a close watch had 
to be kept on them, and, notwithstanding all, John Lee made his es- 
cape on the third night, evaded all pursuit, made his way back to the 
Indians, and was two years longer with them before his relatives could 
get him away. They, however, said that they never undertook such a task 
as breaking in those wild Indian boys, and especially John. It was utterly 
impossible to keep clothes on them. In the Summer it was useless to 



744 Our Western Border. 

attempt it, at least any more than shirts, for the strongest tow or hemp 
linen shirt, with the strongest kind of fastenings at the collar and wrist- 
band, would, in an hour's time, be torn off and thrown away, and 
they would be found swimming like wild ducks in the river, or rolling 
naked on the sand beaches, and in their melancholy moments they 
would often be heard to exclaim, in tones of real distress, " Oh, my 
Innies, my Innies," (meaning Indians). It took a number of years to 
root out this attachment, and indeed some of the boys carried their 
woodland habits and costumes to the grave. 



TWO LADS SAVE THE LIFE OF A GIRL. 

In 1776 the settlements along the West Virginia and North Carolina 
border had notification of a large force of Cherokees coming upon 
them. It was anxiously debated which were best ; to await the enemy's 
coming in the crazy fort, or to march out boldly and meet them in the 
woods. The latter resolve prevailed, and a sharp contest ensued, when 
the savages disappeared like magic, leaving eleven or twelve dead be- 
hind. Alexander Moore, a strong, athletic man, grappled with a cun- 
ning savage of about his own size and strength, and being hard pressed, 
William King ran up to Moore's relief, but the Indian adroitly kept 
Moore in such a position that King could not shoot him without first 
shooting his friend. The savage had a large knife at his belt, for the 
possession of which both struggled, but at length Moore drew it and 
plunged it into the Indian's bosom, when King finished him by shooting 
him through the head. 

Shortly after two parties, supposing hostilities over for the present, 
went out to visit their farms, and were both violently attacked in full 
hearing of the fort, and causing indescribable confusion. The men in the 
fort sallied out, but the savages quickly retired. One incident deserves 
mention. A lad by name of William Casey had a sister, a beautiful lit- 
tle girl, along with the party in the field, and as he was running for his 
life, he discovered the Indians in close pursuit of his sister. At that 
moment his eyes fell upon another lad of about his own age by name 
of Robert Hasold, and he shouted to him to come and help him save 
Nancy. Hasold obeyed, and although there were five Indians in pur- 
suit, (some say seven,) the lads rushed between them and the girl, and 
by dexterously managing to fire alternately, still keeping one gun 
loaded when the other was discharged, they so galled the pursuers that 
they were glad to give up the chase. 



George Bozarth's Ruse and Escape. 745 



SILAS HART'S SON AVENGES HIS FATHER. 

In September, 1782, a marauding band of savages appeared in Har- 
din county, Ky., and committed many depredations. Silas Hart, named 
" Sharp Eye " by the Indians, on account of his skill and penetration 
as a fighter, pursued them with a chosen few, Hart shooting their chief. 
Vengeance was denounced by the tribe against Sharp Eye and his fam- 
ily, and some time after, another gang, led by the brother of the slain 
chief, appeared again in Hardin county. Hart was the very first upon 
their trail, but was unable to overtake them. The savages now worked 
back on the trail of the whites. Hart arrived home about dark and 
slept soundly after his chase. Next morning, just as his family were 
seating themselves for breakfast, the savages appeared and the chief's 
brother shot Hart dead. 

The scout's son, a brave lad of only twelve years, the instant he saw 
his father fall, grasped his rifle, and, before the savage could enter the 
door, sent a ball through his heart. The Indians now rushed on in a 
body, but the first who entered received from the hands of the gallant 
lad a hunting knife in his breast, driven to the hilt. The contest, how- 
ever, was too unequal. He, and his mother and sister, were overpow- 
ered and carried to the Wabash. The sister, unable on account of fee- 
bleness to keep up, was soon dispatched. The mother and son were 
intended for a more terrible sacrifice. All the horrid preparations were 
made, but an influential squaw interfered and saved the boy's life, while 
a chief, who wished the mother as a wife, interfered in her behalf. Both 
were ultimately redeemed by traders and returned home. Mrs. Hart 
subsequently married a Mr. Countryman, and the boy migrated to 
Missouri. 



GEORGE BOZARTH'S RUSE AND ESCAPE. 

The last incursion of savages in Northwestern Virginia happened in 
1794. A murderous band appeared on Leading Creek. Expresses 
were sent all about to warn the people, but they had been so long ex- 
empt from savage marauds, that a false security was engendered. 
Among other careless settlers, John Bozarth, with his sons, George and 
John, were busy in a field drawing grain to the barn, when the agonizing 
shrieks of those at the house rent the air, and they hastened to ascer- 
tain the cause. 



746 Our Western Border. 

The elasticity of youth enabled George to approach the house some 
few paces in advance of his father, but the practiced eye of the old 
gentleman first discovered an Indian, only a small distance from his 
son, and with his gun raised to fire upon him. With parental solici- 
tude he exclaimed, "Take care, George, an Indian is going to shoot 
you I" George was then too near the savage to think of escaping by 
flight. He looked at him steadily, and when he supposed the fatal aim 
was taken and the finger just pressing the trigger, he fell, and the ball 
whistled by him. Not doubting but that the youth had fallen in death, 
the savage passed by him and pressed in pursuit of the father. Mr. 
Bozarth was yet springy and agile, and was enabled to keep ahead of 
his pursuer. Despairing of overtaking him, by reason of his great 
speed, the savage hurled a tomahawk at his head. It passed harmless 
by, and the old gentleman got safely off. 

When George Bozarth fell as the Indian fired, he lay as if dead, and 
supposing the scalping knife would be next applied to his head, deter- 
mined on seizing the savage by the legs as he would stoop over him, and 
endeavor to bring him to the ground, when he hoped to be able to gain 
the mastery over him. Seeing him pass on in pursuit of his father, he 
arose and took to flight also. On his way he overtook a younger brother, 
who had become alarmed and was hobbling slowly away on a sore foot . 
George gave him every aid in his power to facilitate his flight, until he 
discovered that another of the savages was pressing close upon them. 
Knowing that if he remained with his brother, both must inevitably 
perish, he was reluctantly forced to leave him to his fate. Proceeding 
on, he came up with his father, who, not doubting but he was killed 
when the savage fired at him, broke forth with the exclamation, " Why, 
George, I thought you , were dead/" and manifested, even in that sor- 
rowful moment, a joyful feeling at his mistake. The Indians who were 
at the house wrought their work of blood, killing two or three small 
children and took Mrs. Bozarth and two boys prisoners. With these they 
made their way to their towns, and arrived in time to surrender their 
captives to General Wayne. 



TWO BOYS IN THE WOODS ALL WINTER. 

In the Fall of 1803 Henry Perry, one of the first pioneers about 
Delhi, Ohio, after getting up his cabin in the woods, left his two little 
sons in it and returned to Philadelphia for the remainder of his family; 
but finding his wife sick, and afterwards falling sick himself, could not 
get West again until the following June. His two little boys, Levi and 



A Boy Made to Slay Six Indians. 747 

Reuben, only eleven and nine years old, remained there alone eight 
months, fifteen miles from any white family and surrounded by sava- 
ges, with no food but the rabbits they could trap or catch in hollow 
logs, the remains of one deer that the wolves drove and killed near 
their cabin, and a little corn meal that they occasionally obtained of 
Thomas Cellar by following down the "Indian Trail." The Winter 
was a severe one and their cabin was open, having neither daubing, 
fireplace nor chimney ; they had no gun and were wholly unaccus- 
tomed to forest life, being fresh from Wales, and yet these little fellows 
not only struggled through the Winter but actually made a considerable 
clearing. 



A BOY MADE TO SLAY SIX INDIANS. 

In May, 1788, a man by the name of Kirk lived near Knoxville, 
Tenn. While he was absent, an Indian by the name of Slim Tom 
visited the family and was supplied with provisions. Having learned 
their defenceless condition, he soon after returned with a party, and the 
whole Kirk family — eleven in number — were brutally massacred. Kirk 
soon after returning, saw the dead bodies of his dear family lying in 
the yard, gave the alarm, and soon a band of several hundred men, 
under Colonel Sevier, were in pursuit, and ravaged several villages on 
the Hiwassee river. Abraham, a friendly Indian, who lived with his 
son on the Tennessee, had publicly declared that if the Indians went 
to war he would remain at his home and never quit it. 

When the troops came to the south side, Hubbard, Colonel Sevier not 
then being present, sent for Abraham and his son to come over the 
river to the troops, and to bring with them the chief Tassel and other 
Indians that they might have a talk with them. They came over, all 
unsuspicious, and were put in a house, and young Kirk, the son of him 
whose family had been killed, was urged to go into the house and com- 
mence killing with the tomahawk. As soon as the first dropped dead, 
the others, six in number, foresaw their fate. Each cast his eyes to the 
ground, bowed his head, and one after the other stoically received the 
fatal tomahawk strike. 

Colonel Sevier, on returning, was very indignant, and rebuked the 
savage tragedy, but was answered by Kirk — who was largely backed by 
the troops — that if Sevier had suffered from the murderous savages as 
he had, that he, too, would have acted the same way. Sevier, unable to 
punish the offender, was obliged to smother his resentment and over- 
look the flagitious deed. The Indians, however, exacted a terrible re- 
venge, and for some time after ravaged that whole border. 



748 Our Western Border. 



ANECDOTES OF INDIANS. 

— An Indian chief, on being asked whether his people were free, 
answered, "Why not, since I myself am free, although their king?" 

— An Indian having been found frozen to death, an inquest of his 
countrymen was convened to determine by what means he came to such 
a death. Their verdict was, "Death from the freezing of a great 
quantity of water inside of him, which they were of opinion he had 
drunken for rum." 

— A white man, meeting an Indian, accosted him as "brother." The 
red man, with a great expression of meaning in his countenance, in- 
quired how they came to be brothers ; the white man replied, "Oh, by 
way of Adam, I suppose." The Indian added, " Me thank him Great 
Spirit we no nearer brothers." 

— About 1794 an officer presented a western chief with a medal, on 
one side of which President Washington was represented as armed with a 
sword, and on the other an Indian was seen in the act of burying the 
hatchet. The chief at once saw the wrong done his countrymen, and 
very wisely asked, " Why does not the President bury his sword, too?" 

— An Ottawa chief, known to the French by the name of Whitejohn, 
was a great drunkard. Count Frontenac asked him what he thought 
brandy to be made of? He replied that it must be made of hearts and 
tongues. " For," said he, "when I have drunken plentifully of it, my 
heart is a thousand strong, and I can talk, too, with astonishing freedom 
and rapidity." 

— A chief of the Five Nations, who fought on the side of the English 
in the French wars, chanced to meet, in battle, his own father, who was 
fighting on the side of the French. Just as he was about to deal a 
deadly blow on his head, he discovered who he was, and said to him, 
"You have once given me life, and now I give it to you. Let me meet 
you no more, for I have paid the debt I owed you." 

— When any of the Indians come into our towns, our people are apt to 
crowd around them, gaze upon them and incommode them, when 
they desire to be private; this they esteem great rudeness, and the 
effect of the want of instruction in the rules of civility and good 
manners. "We have," say they, "as much curiosity as you, and when 
you come into our towns we wish for opportunities of looking at you ; 
but for this purpose we hide ourselves behind bushes where you are to 
pass, and never intrude ourselves into your company." 



Anecdotes of Indians. 749 

— A missionary residing among a certain tribe of Indians, was one day, 
after he had been preaching to them, invited by their chief to visit his 
wigwam. After having been kindly entertained, and being about to 
depart, the chief took him by the hand and said, "I have very bad 
squaw. She had two little children. One she loved well, and the 
other she hated. In a cold night, when I was gone hunting in the 
woods, she shut it out of the wigwam and it froze to death. What 
must be done with her?" The missionary replied, "She must be 
hanged." "Ah!" said the chief, "Go, then, and hang your God, 
whom you make just like her." 

— An Indian of the Kennebec tribe, remarkable for his good conduct, ' 
received a grant of land from the State, and fixed himself in a new 
township where a number of families were settled. Though not ill-treated, 
yet the common prejudice against Indians prevented any sympathy with 
him. This was shown at the death of his only child, when none of the 
people came near him. Shortly afterwards, he went to some of the in- 
habitants and said to them, "When white man's child die, Indian man 
be sorry — he help bury him. When my child die, no one speak to me 
— I make his grave alone. I can no live here." He gave up his farm, 
dug up the body of his child, and carried it with him two hundred miles 
through the forests, to join the Canada Indians. 

— -A certain clergyman had for his text on a time, "Vow, and pay the 
Lord thy vows." An Indian happened to be present, .who stepped up 
to the priest, as soon as he had finished, and said to him, " Now, me 
vow me go home with you, Mr. Minister." The priest, having no 
language of evasion at command, said, "You must go, then." When 
he had arrived at the home of the minister, the Indian vowed again, 
saying, " Now, me vow me have supper." When this was finished, he 
said, "Me vow me stay all night." The priest, by this time thinking 
himself sufficiently taxed, replied, "It may be so, but I vow you shall go 
in the morning. The Indian, judging from the tone of his host that 
more vows would be useless, departed in the morning sans ceremonie. 

About the time Cornplanter left his nation to proceed on his mission 

to the hostile tribes, three of his people were traveling through a settle- 
ment upon the Genesee, when they stopped at a house to light their 
pipes. There happened to be several men within, one of whom killed 
the foremost Indian with an axe as he stooped to light his pipe. One 
of the others was badly wounded with the same weapon, while escaping 
from the house. They were not pursued, and the other, a boy, es- 
caped unhurt. When Cornplanter learned what had happened, he 
charged his warriors to remain quiet, and not to seek revenge. He was 
only heard to say, " It is hard, when I and my people are trying to 



750 Our Western Border. 

make peace for the whites, that we should receive such a reward. I can 
govern my young men and warriors better than the thirteen fires can 
theirs." 

— An Indian came, one day, to a tavern in Sherman's Valley, Pa., 
called for a gill of whiskey and drank it, when there came another In- 
dian in. He also called for a dram, but set.it on the table without tasting. 
He then took the first savage outside and discoursed with him most 
seriously for some time. The first Indian then stripped himself naked 
and stretched himself on the floor. The other stood at the door, and 
when he was ready, he stepped forward with his knife and stabbed his 
companion, who was lying down, to the heart. The prostrate Indian re- 
ceived the stab quietly, leaped to his feet, drank the other whiskey 
off and dropped down dead. The white people made prisoner of the 
other Indian, and sent word to the heads of the nation. Two of them 
came, saw the Indian homicide, and then told the whites to let him 
go, as he had done right. The cause of the killing was a mystery. The 
dead man had probably broken some tribal law, and cheerfully submitted 
to the penalty. 

— In a time of Indian troubles, an Indian visited the house of Gov- 
ernor Jenks, of Rhode Island, when the Governor took occasion to re- 
quest him that if any strange Indian should come to his wigwam, to let 
him know it, which the Indian promised to do ; but, to secure his 
fidelity, the Governor told him that when he should give him such in- 
formation he would give him a mug of flip. Some time after, the In- 
dian came again : ' ' Well, Mr. Gubenor, a strange Indian come to my 
house last night." "Ah!" says the Governor, "and what did he say?" 
"He no speak," replied the Indian. "What! not speak at all?" added 
the Governor. "No, he no speak at all." "That certainly looks sus- 
picious," said His Excellency, and inquired if he were still there, and 
being told that he was, ordered the promised mug of flip. When this 
was disposed of, and the Indian was about to depart, he mildly said, 
"Mr. Gubenor, my squaw have child last night;" and thus the Gov- 
ernor's alarm was suddenly changed into disappointment, and the 
strange Indian into a new-born pappoose. 

— A white trader sold a quantity of powder to an Indian, and imposed 
upon him by making him believe that it was a grain which grew like 
wheat, by sowing it upon the ground. He. was greatly elated by the 
prospect of not only raising his own powder, but of being able to supply 
others, and thereby becoming immensely rich. Having prepared his 
ground with great care, he sowed his powder with the utmost exactness 
in the Spring. Month after month passed away, but his powder did not 
even sprout, and Winter came before he was satisfied that he had been 



Anecdotes of Indians. 751 

deceived. He said nothing ; but some time after, when the white trader 
had forgotten the trick, the same Indian succeeded in getting credit of him 
to a large amount. The time set for payment having expired, he sought out 
the Indian at his residence and demanded payment for his goods. The In- 
dian heard his demand with great complaisance ; then looking him shrewd- 
ly in the eye, said, " Me pay you when my powder grow." This was 
enough. The guilty white man quickly retraced his steps, satisfied, we 
apprehend, to balance his account with the chagrin he had received. 

— An Indian came into Bethlehem, Penn'a., to dispose of his peltry. 
" Well, Thomas," said a trader who happened to be there, to him, " I 
believe you have turned Moravian." "Moravian!" answered the In- 
dian, "what makes you think so?" "Because," replied the trader, 
"you used to come to us to sell your skins and peltry, and now you 
trade them away to the Moravians." "So!" rejoined the Indian, 
" now I understand you well, and I know what you mean to say. Now, 
hear me. See, my friend ! when I come to this place with my skins 
and peltry to trade, the people are kind ; they give me plenty of good 
victuals to eat, and pay me in money or whatever I want, and no one 
says a word to me about drinking rum, neither do I ask for it ! When 
I come to your place with my peltry, all call to me, ' Come, Thomas ! 
here's rum; drink heartily, drink! it will not hurt you!' All this is 
done for the purpose of cheating me. When you have obtained from me 
all you want, you call me a drunken dog, and kick me out of the 
room." 

— An aged Indian, who, for many years, had spent much time among the 
white people, both in Pennsylvania and New Jersey, one day, about the 
year 1770, observed that the Indians had not only a much easier way 
of getting a wife than the whites, but also a more certain way of getting 
a good one. "For," said he, in broken English, "white man court — 
court — may be one whole year ! may be two years before he marry ! 
Well, may be then he get very good wife — but may be not — may be 
very cross ! Well, now, suppose cross ! scold so soon as get awake in 
morning ! scold all day ! scold until sleep ! — all one — he must keep 
him — white people have law forbidding throw away wife if he be ever so 
cross — must keep him always ! Well, how does Indian do ? Indian, 
when he see industrious squaw, he go to him, place his two forefingers 
close aside each other, make two like one — then look squaw in the face 
— see him smile — this is all — he say, yes ! — so he take him home — no 
danger he be cross ! No, no — squaw know too well what Indian do if 
he cross ! throw him away and take another ! Squaw love to eat meat 
— no husband no meat. Squaw do everything to please husband, he do 
everything to please squaw — live happy." 



752 Our Western Border. 

— An Indian well known as Sam Hide, was notorious for his lying and 
his propensity for cider, which he obtained by traveling through the 
country and begging it from door to door. At one time he happened 
to be in a part of the country where cider was very hard to get; but 
Sam was determined to have it, if "he could obtain it by lying. Being 
not far from the house of an acquaintance, who he knew had cider — but 
he was well satisfied that in the ordinary way of begging he could not 
get it — he set his wits to work, and soon contrived a way to obtain his 
desire. On arriving at the house of the gentleman, instead of asking 
for cider he inquired for the man of the house, whom, on appearing, Sam 
requested to go aside with him, as he had something important to com- 
municate. When they were alone, Sam told him that he had that morn- 
ing shot a fine deer, and if he would give him a crown he would tell him 
where it was. The gentleman declined, but offered half a crown. Final 
ly, Sam said, as he had walked a great distance that morning, and was 
very dry, for half a crown and a mug of cider he would tell him 
This was agreed upon, and the price paid. Then Sam pointed out the 
place in this manner. He said to his friend, "You know of such a 
meadow?" describing it. "Yes." "You know a big ash tree, with a 
big top, by the little brook?" "Yes." "Well, under that tree Hep 
the deer." This was satisfactory and Sam departed. It is scarcely ne 
cessary to say the meadow was found and the tree, but no deer. The 
duped man was greatly enraged, but as Sam was out of his reach, he had 
to go home contented. Some years afterwards he happened to fall in 
with the Indian, and immediately began to rally him for deceiving him 
so, and demanded back his money, and pay for his cider and trouble. 
" Why," said Sam, "would you find fault if Indian told truth half the 
time?" " No." "Well," says Sam, " you find him meadow? " "Yes." 
"You find him tree ? " " Yes." " What for, then, you find fault with 
Sam Hide when he told you two truth to one lie." Sam heard no 
more from the farmer. In all the wars with the Indians, during his life- 
time, Hide fought on the side of the English, and was a brave soldier. 
He was a great jester and passed as an uncommon wit. He died in 
Dedham, January 15, 1732, at the age of one hundred and five years. 



INDEX. 



Page, 

Alaquippa, Queen 21 

Alder, Jonathan, captured '725 

His strange return 728 

Anecdotes of Indians 748 

Audubon, Thrilling adventure of, 636 

Bailey, " Mad Ann," of W.Va... 709 

Bard Family, Captivity of. 225 

Bald Eagle, Murder of 168 

Battle of Braddocks Fields 47 

Of Blue Licks 277 

Of Fallen Timbers 550 

Of Bushv Bun 152 

Of Point Pleasant 161 

Of Bloody Kun 143 

Benham, Major, his adventure 374 

Bell, Sam'l, his deadly conflict 649 

Biggs, William, made love to by 

a handsome squaw 680 

Bingaman kills seven Indians 677 

Bloodv Run, Battle of. 143 

Blue Licks, Battle of. 277 

Boating life on "Western waters... 653 

Boone, Daniel, Sketch of 253 

He moves to Kentucky 257 

Left alone in the wilderness 258 

Daughter stolen off. 261 

Kills two savages 263 

At Battle of Blue Licks 278 

Son Israel killed 280 

Last days of. 286 

Death and burial of 288 

Portrait of ,.. 1 

Anecdotes of.... 289 

" Barking squirrels " 290 

Adventure of, related by him- 
self 512 

Boone, Bebecca, and how Daniel 

won her 708 

Boys of the Border, their pluck 

and spirit 719 

Boy kills an Indian 722 

How easily became Indianized, 722 
Two remain in the woods all 

Winter 746 

Brady, Captain Sam'l, Sketch of.. 426 

Brady's Bend 429 

Kills two savages at a shot 433 

Attacks an Indian camp 435 

Tracked by a dog 437 

His famous "Leap" 439 

His trial, marriage and death... 441 
Bozarth, Geo. , his ruse and escape, 745 

Bouquet, Colonel Henry 150 

His battle of Bushy Bun 152 



Page. 
Forces a peace and recovers hun- 
dreds of captives.- 156 

Brickell's captivity 736 

Bryant's and Hogan's party at- 
tacked 381 

Brothers, Two little, captured 731 

Butler, General Richard, hero of 

North Bend council 502 

Death of, at St. Clair's defeat... 539 

Cacasotte, throws fourteen robbers 

overboard 681 

Canadian, French 13 

Captivities — Col. James Smith 75 

McCullough 204 

Bard Family 225 

John Brickell 736 

Jonathan Alder 725 

Mrs. Clendenin 713 

Colonel Crawford 456 

Massy Harbison 685 

Casey, Wm., a lad, saves his sister, 744 
Catawbas, Cherokees and Chicka- 

saws 6 

Clark, George Rogers, Sketch of... 477 

Marches on Kaskaskia 481 

Treatment of Indians 485 

His strange march 490 

Takes Vincennes 495 

His disappointment and death.. 498 

At North Bend council 500 

Clendenin, Mrs., Capture of 713 

Colter's famous race for life 644 

Conestoga Indians, Massacre of... 177 
Cook, The widows, their heroic de- 
fence 715 

Cornstalk, Chief 166 

Murder of, and son 166 

Coureurs des Bois 15 

Crawford, Colonel William 449 

Who he was 451 

Expedition against Sandusky... 454 

His defeat and capture 456-459 

Interview with Girty 460 

Awful tortures and death of..... 462 
Crepps and Crist, their desperate 

boat fight 610 

Crow, the Misses, Murder of. 702 

Cunningham, Mrs. , Capture of, and 

saved by Girty 705 

Cunningham, Mrs. Edward, her 

valor 714 

Dalzell, Captain 142 

Death of. 145 



754 



Index. 



Page 
Darke, Lt. Col., his daring and es- 
cape 546 

Daviess, Mrs. Samuel, Courage of, 699 
Davis, Caffree and McClure, their 

fierce combat with Indians.... 615 

Deer drives and ring hunts 101 

Delaware Indians 6 

Dennis, Hannah, Escape of - 712 

Detroit, Siegeof 127 

Downing, Francis, saved by a bear, 734 

Dunbar, the Tardy 45-60 

Dunmore's War 161 

Duquesne, Fort 22 

Braddock's expedition against. 40 
Capture of 64 

Elliott, Capt., deserts to the British 392 
Emigration, Western — odd scenes, 650 . 

English traders 13 

Eries, Destruction of 7 

Erlewyne, Fred., a lad, captured.. 723 
Estill, Captain, his well-fought ac- 
tion and death 269 

Fink, Mike, last of the keelboat- 

men \ 655 

His feats and death 666-669 

Fleming, The Misses, adventures, 569 

Sad plight of, and rescue 594 

Flinn, the hunter, Sad fate of 589 

Forts, Presq' Isle 125 

Detroit 127 

Duquesne 22 

Henry 515 

Sieges of 523 

Necessity 23 

Machillimackinac 117 

Franklin as a commander 236 

French Canadian 13 

Game and deer drives of olden time 659 

Girty, James 618 

Girty, Simon, before Bryant's sta- 
tion 274 

Saves Kenton t 309 

At Crawford's torture 461 

Not at first siege of Wheeling... 517 

But at second 523 

Kepentant 618 

Saves Mrs. Cunningham 705 

Deserts from Fort Pitt 392 

Sketch of..... 418 

His attack on Bryant's station.. 271 

Marries Kate Malott 418 

Death of 424 

Halket, Sir Peter 44 

His death 55 

Singular discovery of his re- 
mains by his son 66 



Page. 
Hammond and the Bennetts, Es- 
cape of 629 

Harmar, Gen., his campaign and 

defeat 530 

Harris, John, of Harrisburg 234 

Harbison, Massy, Touching narra- 
tive of 685 

Harrod, James, Life and adven- 
tures of 505 

Nurses a wounded Indian 508 

Mysterious death of. 509 

Hart, Silas, his son avenges him. ... 745 

Henry, Alexander, the trader, 118 

His adventures 121 

Higgins, the Banger, Obstinate 

combat of 641 

Holland, Luke, his sagacity at 

trailing 647 

Hubbell, Captain, Desperate at- 
tack on boat of 604 

Obstinate defence 606 

Hughes, Jesse, mountain hunter... 669 
Hurons, The 6 

Indians, Anecdotes of 748 

Introduction 1 

Iroquois or Six Nations 7 

Jack, Captain, the wild hunter of 

the Juniata 56-109 

Jesuit Pioneers 14 

Johonnet, Jackson, Singular ad- 
ventures of 532 

Johnson Boys, Bemarkable ex- 
ploits of 721 

Johnson, Sir William, Baronet... 243 
Peculiar education of his 

daughters 245 

Author's late visit to Johnson 
Hall and Castle 248 

Kennan, the Banger, his race for 

life 542 

Gallantry 545 

Kennedy, Peter, Combat and es- 
cape of. 510 

Kenton, Simon 293 

Remarkable adventures of 301 

Saved by Girty 309 

Meets Logan 312 

His last years 315 

Appearance of 318 

Adventure with Wetzel 325 

Adventures with Ward and 

Calvin 598 

Kentucky in the olden time 254 

Kentucky, Women of 273 

Sports of 290 

Kentucky, Adventures of five 
boys of : 725 



Index. 



755 



Page 
Kirk, a lad, made to slav six In- 
dians 747 

Kirkwood, Captain Kobert 546-675 

Knights of G-olden Horseshoe 2 

Knight, Dr. John, his wonderful 

escape 468 

Lewis, General Andrew 164 

Little Turtle, a chief 546 

Logan, Benjamin 352 

After battle of Blue Licks 284 

Logan, the famous Mingo Chief... 170 

Death'of 175 

Logan, Captain, a Shawnee chief, 360 

His romantic death 363 

Logston, "Big Joe" 369 

Machiilimackinac, Fort, captured, 117 
Marshall, Thos., and Jas. G-irty... 618 
Mason, Mrs. George, kills one and 

frightens a score 711 

Massawomee Indians ' 6 

May, John, Johnston, Flinn and 

Skyles, Adventures of 571 

Merrill, Mrs. John, the "Long- 
Knife Squaw" 698 

Messhawa, a noble chief 577-585 

Fights with Tecumseh 597 

Miller, The Brothers, and their 

adventures 555-558 

Minter, Captain John, his famous 

bear fight 662 

McAfee Brothers, Adventure of... 379 

McClellan, Bobert, the Kanger.... 554 

His life and extraordinary feats, 562 

His later exploits 566-571 

McCullough, John, Captivity of... 204 
McColloch, Major Samuel, at siege 

of Fort Henry 520 

McGarv, Hugh, at Blue Licks 277 

His defence 283 

Kills Moluntha 360 

McKee, Captain, deserts to the 

British 392 

McManimy, Torture of 227 

McConnel's capture and revenge.. 377 
Mills, Thos., riddled with bullets, 679 

Moluntha. Murder of 358 

Montour, Catharine, alias Queen 

Esther 628 

Moravian mission 397 

Towns destroyed 400 

Massacre of ■ 403 

Moredock, Colonel John, his terri- 
ble revenge 633 

Morgan, David, his desperate con- 
flict 385 

Morgan, Levi, his stratagem for 
his life 678 



Page, 

Muldrow, how he found his neigh- 
bor 664 

Northwestern campaign 529 

Ogilvie, Pleasant adventure of.... 639 
One hundred years ago 1-8 

Pack-horseing U52 

Perry, Levi and Keuben, two lit- 
tle boys, in woods all Winter, 746 

Pioneers, Life and customs of 183 

Hardships of 187 

"Woodcraft and hunting 191 

Weddings, frolics and amuse- 

. ments of 193 

Pioneer women 4-5 

Of Kentucky 273 

Their trials and heroism 685 

Pipe, Captain 389 

Pitt, Fort, Guyasutha's siege of... 148 
Poe, Andrew and Adam, their fa- 
mous fight with Bigioot 445 

Andrew's tussle with a bull 447 

His narrow escape 448 

Pontiac, Conspiracy of 112 

Character of 114 

Anecdotes of 134 

Death of 147 

Point Pleasant, Battle of 161 

Purdy Family, Massacre of. 672 

Bay, James, Adventures of 740 

Beynolds, Lieut, chaffing Girtv.. 276 

Gallantry of 281 

Bice's Fort, Attack on 528 

Kose, Major John, at Crawford's 

expedition 455 

Schoolmaster attacked by wild cat, 383 

Scarrooyaddy, Chief. 18 

Scott, Frances, Wanderings of..... 706 
Scraggs, Widow, fierce attack on 

her cabin 695 

Sevier, Buth, marries a Shawnee 

Chief 717 

Shawnees 6 

Six Nations 7 

Slocum, Frances, the lost sister... 630 
Slover, John, the guide, Capture 

and adventures of 468 

His escape and mad ride 471 

Smith, Col. James, his captivity.. 75 

His marriage 105 

Takes a British fort 107 

Smith, Major, how he recovered 

his sweetheart 667 

St. Clair, Sir John 46 

St. Clair, General Archur, his 

campaign and defeat 537 



'56 



Index. 



Page. 
St. Clair, Louisa, the dashing and 

beautiful 710 

Stobo, Major Kobert . 26 

Kemarkable adventures of 29 

His escape from Quebec 31 

Captures two ships 85 

Thomas, Captain John, massacre 

of family 674 

Tush Family, Massacre of 673 

Van Buskirk, Sad death of 671 

Van Campen, Major, his wonder- 
ful combat 621 

Vmcennes, Capture of 495 

"Ward, Captain James, and the fat 

Dutchman 619 

Ward, Calvin and Kenton's adven- 
tures 598 

War Belt, legend of North Bend.. 500 
Washington, George, his first visit 

to the West 17 

To Yenango 19 

Hurled into the Allegheny and 

shot at 20 

His first campaign ; 23 

Surrenders Tort Necessity 25 

Sick on the march 46-49 

Conduct at Braddocks Fields... . 50 



Page. 

Wayne, " Mad Anthony," Cam- 
paign of 547 

Weiser, Conrade 237 

Wells, Capt. William, the Kanger, 

and daring exploits 554-559 

Wells, Jack, and his dream 372 

Wild white man and his story 665 

Wetzel family 319 

Martin captured 320 

John's adventures 321 

As a boy 723 

Jacob and Kenton , 325 

Lewis the most daring and fa- 
mous 327 

Captured when a boy 328 

Kills three savages in a running 

fight 329 

Adventures of 330 

Death of 342 

Widow won at last 716 

Williams, The Isaac and Kebecca 

of West Virginia 718 

Williamson, David... 403-7-1 6— 450-8 
White Eyes, a noble Delaware 

Chief 389 

Will Case on the border... 241 

Zane, Betty, her famous gun- 
powder exploit 524 






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